


The Reaper's Final Job

by BlackGlitter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU Where Reaper is an actual reaper, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Angst, Angst and Humor, Blackwatch Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Flashbacks, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hospitalization, I'm just trying to tag stuff that could be triggering. I promise it's not all dark LOL, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mariticide, Memory Loss, Original Art, Original art in almost each chapter!, Overwatch - Freeform, PTSD, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Secret Marriage, Strike-Commander Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Strike-Commander Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison, graphic mention of injuries, includes original art, mentions of needles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:07:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27189094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackGlitter/pseuds/BlackGlitter
Summary: Reaper #R-34937 is a weary being, ready to hang up his scythe and pass on to the afterlife. After what seems like eons of work, the only thing standing in his way is this final assignment. Known as "The Living Ghost" among the reapers, this one seems to be a particularly difficult case. Out of desperation to meet his goal, Reaper #R-34937 takes on the job.It's just one mortal, how hard could it be?But soon enough, the Reaper will find out what's so special about this widower called Jack F. Morrison.[Includes original art for [almost] each chapter!]
Relationships: Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Comments: 128
Kudos: 179





	1. Reaper #R-34937

A lone, dark figure slithers through the crowd of other shadows. 

“Number R-34937,” a feminine, robotic voice calls out with synthetic enthusiasm.

Upon the figure’s arrival to the darkly lacquered ornate Desk, it fully takes the form of a hooded man in black. Removing a clawed black glove, he readies himself to place his hand on the scanner laying atop the smooth surface.

“You again?” The Administrator shaped like a young woman at the Desk asks with a bored look on her face. She is in a black suit. Her chin rests on her left hand while the other picks at the long, dark violet nails. “Do you ever stop working?” She asks the dark figure that stands still as if unaffected by her question. She huffs and looks into the black holes in his mask that resemble the skull of an owl, trying to see if what she said even registered. The dark hooded figure puts his hand on the now ready scanner and slightly turns his head towards her, looking her square in the eyes. She does not waver.

The machine chimes, breaking the silence. “Reaper number R-34937.” The same robotic voice now coming from the scanner confirms. A glowing screen rises before the young woman; her purple lips are in a pout as she looks over his file. Dark violet eyes scan the information quickly as she presses through the screen with an index finger. Her other hand rests under her cheek as she continues to read the updates on his profile. Meanwhile, the dark figure puts his glove back on. 

The young woman whistles as she finds something that piques her interest on the screen. She brushes brown and purple hair from the unshaven side of her head and looks up at him with a smirk. “I see,” she says with appraising eyes. “You have a  _ very _ impressive record.” She scrolls a bit more. “And apparently you’ve gained a lot of favor with the higher-ups. It looks like they’re cutting you a deal because of your outstanding work.”

“What deal?” He asks with his gravelly, metallic voice, which unfurls like smoke through the air. His tone is void of excitement or any kind of emotion. She looks at the screen and reads a bit more. Her eyes widen for a second and she goes back to read something else. Her eyes say that she just discovered something very interesting, but she composes her expression and looks back to him.

“You need to reap one thousand souls and then you're done.”

“Too easy. What’s the catch?”

“Compared to everyone else here, you’re really desperate to fulfill your contract, huh? You got some business waiting for you on the other side?”

“Sombra.”

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Okay, Mr. Efficient. One thousand souls… and one more. It’s a special case, but you only get more information on it after you get your one thousand.” Sombra doesn’t have to look up to know that he isn’t pleased to hear this information. “Hey, you know I don’t make the rules.” She shrugs. 

He stays silent.

“Here’s your final list.” She grabs at the screen, dragging a lavender square of light out of it and tossing it towards the dark figure. It lands onto his open palm and changes to a glowing deep red. The bright square dissipates into characters that flow down onto his arm and merge into sets of words. The list floats in crimson letters above his armored forearm. In it are names and dates in the order of who is scheduled to die. The dark figure scrolls through the thousand names quickly and then goes back to the top. He taps the first name and instantly fades away in a dark cloud of smoke.

Sombra rolls her eyes again. “Yeah,  _ adios _ to you too.” She flicks his file away on the screen. “Okay, next.” After a moment, the robotic voice calls out another number.

The Reaper manifests himself into the physical world, looking at his new list.

One thousand and one. Easy. A large but doable amount of souls until he reaches his goal. 

Old or young, great or humble, he reaps each soul without hesitation. From waiting moments to days for an old person to finally pass, or sometimes being there to collect the tiniest of souls that didn’t even have a chance in the world yet, the Reaper does not discriminate. 

Sometimes they come out screaming, sometimes not. He is not the most welcomed sight, but there are brave ones that make it interesting. Regardless, each soul he collects is another to cross out on the list and another job done. 

Out of the countless souls the Reaper has collected, sometimes there are rare cases that he can’t seem to forget. There’s something about this particular case he’s on that gives him the feeling that this will be one of them.

As he appears in the next location, he finds himself in a bedroom. Two humans sleep soundly in an ornate bed, which is part of a room seemingly in a castle-like building. A man and a woman.

This time, there is no soul present for the Reaper to collect… yet. He looks at the name on the list. The man. The reaper will have to wait and see how this man dies.

The ornate grandfather clock in the corner ticks away, 12:59 it says. Moonlight casts a shadow of window panes over the couple wrapped in their white silk sheets, two unknowing flies caught in the web of a spider. The Reaper watches intently. He gets a good look at each of their faces, feeling an echo of something. It’s been awhile since this has happened. 

But reapers do not need to feel, so he doesn't.

The clock strikes 1 in the morning. At the tick, the woman’s eyes open and she slowly sits up, looking forward towards the Reaper. For a second, he wonders if she can see him, for her eyes the color of liquid gold gaze in his direction. Her face lacks expression, so definitely not.

A gentle arm slowly reaches beneath the pillow that isn't her own. She touches something, but the husband stirs a bit and she freezes, expression remaining stagnant. She moves her body closer to him, making him sleepily move over a little. It looks like she has successfully gotten a hold of something from beneath the pillow. 

Ever so slowly, she pulls out the pistol. 

In her black silk nightgown, she smoothly moves to climb out of bed. Her legs are long and thin, but muscular and stretch out ever so carefully. Her feet, pale like porcelain, land on the floor with only the faintest sound. Her shoulders are held back with an eerie composure and she slowly walks around to stand between her sleeping husband and the window. Her slender figure casts a shadow in the moonlight that floods the room through the web of ornate window panes. 

One of the flies turns out to be the spider herself.

She checks for bullets. The small pistol is fully loaded. The safety lock is pulled.

Her expression remains the same as slender hands point the gun at the man they held only moments ago.

She takes a few steps back and aims the pistol at her husband’s forehead.

Then she simply stands there, staring. A lock of dark hair falls, draping her pale face, but she does not move to fix it.

The Reaper has seen many deaths like this, but something about this one is different. Usually, the murderer says something or shows some kind of emotion before killing their spouse, but this woman is a blank slate. 

Something about her is off, almost as if she is possessed. For once, something within the Reaper tells him that this is wrong. Something deep within him feels the urge to do something about this, but the outcome of this situation is as certain as his presence in this room. There is nothing he can do about it, so as usual, he simply watches.

The time on the clock is now 1:08 in the morning. The man stirs slightly, wrapped under the white silk, but not enough to wake up. He lays there, blissfully unaware. What is he dreaming about? Can he sense his impending death?

At the stroke of 1:10, a single shot resounds throughout the manor. The woman has made herself a widow.

The widow blankly stares at the gruesome image of what was once her husband.

She does not see it, but the man’s soul gently rises from his body. A red string. Another gunshot resounds, but remains unheard by mortal ears.

The man is dazed as he looks around, trying to grasp the situation. His eyes are wide as he sees that his wife is standing at their bedside with his pistol in her hand. A wave of grief rises in his expression as he sees his body and looks back to her. “Amélie…?!” His voice is a hushed whisper as he places a hand to his head where the bullet entered. The man looks into her lifeless expression and all at once he understands something the Reaper doesn't. He reaches for her still figure, but he cannot touch her. His transparent fingers go right through her unknowing, living flesh.

“Gérard Lacroix.” The Reaper speaks the name calmly to catch his attention. Gérard looks around and sees the dark figure standing in the corner of the room.

“Wh- who are you? Is this… real?” The pain and fear in his voice are apparent, but the Reaper remains unaffected.

The Reaper indicates the corpse on the bed. “I am here for your soul.”

“So this is it?” Gérard asks with a sad expression on his face. His shoulders fall with a sigh. He looks to Amélie, who has lowered the pistol. She picks up her phone from the nightstand and dials a number. The other side picks up immediately and she flatly tells them the job is done. The person on the other line gives her coordinates, so she confirms and hangs up. The two watch as she calmly walks out of the room, leaving her wedding band on the nightstand. 

“It is time.” The Reaper says. Gérard Lacroix is gestured to go towards the Light

Gérard gives a conflicted expression and looks towards the way his wife had left. Till death do they part.

“What happens if I don't go? Will I become a ghost? And then what?”

The Reaper stays silent.

Gérard looks back to his corpse and sighs. “You’re probably going to stay till I come with you, huh? Tell me, is it Heaven or Hell on the other side?”

No answer. 

“Not much for conversation, are you?” Gérard muses. His expression softens as he thinks. The Reaper does not take his gaze off the man. “I guess I’ll just have to take my chances with you, Mr. Reaper.”

The Reaper gestures towards the Light. “You’ll bring her to the same place as me when it’s her time, right?”

“Not my decision.”

“I see.” Gérard follows the Reaper’s direction to the Light and walks towards it, looking back one last time. “ _ Au revoir, ma chérie, _ ” he whispers to his wife, wherever she may be now.

The Light closes up as the spirit of Gérard Lacroix enters it.

In the dark room remains a reaper who uncharacteristically halts his work for a moment. He stands there wondering about the echo of a feeling he had, for it happens again. 

But reapers don't need to feel. 

So he summons the list on his arm and crosses out yet another name.

* * * * *

For the rest of his reapings, the memory of the couple comes up often, but he cannot fathom why.

He pulls his mind from that moment again as he pulls the soul of a young one from the water.

She is frightened, kicking and screaming as she realizes he is now holding her in his arms. Barely able to crawl, she is only here because of a “cat nap,” as her mother said. One misstep off the dock and into the lake. One trip to the truck by the only other person who could have saved her from her watery fate.

In her short life, she only learned to speak in coos and babbles. But one touch of a gentle hand to her cheek and she can now understand what is asked of her.

Her lack of knowledge of the world makes her want to stay. She makes that clear enough to him. The Reaper cannot force her to go, so he stays with her as she watches her family wail for her untimely end. She babbles to him, asking why they are crying. Instead of telling her, he shows her in a way she can understand, making shapes and figures of his black smoke.

The light in the sky fades as the family finally takes her little body away from the lake. Unknowingly, they leave  _ her _ behind. He shows her that she can't follow. She wouldn't even know how to find them. If she decides to remain in this world, her soul will be bound to this lake.

The first few days test his patience as she cries and cries. The sun and moon run through the sky in their eternal cycle. Finally, she asks him things and he shows her in the best way he can: through touch and his smoky shapes.

More time passes. Her family finally comes back. Their hands are filled with flowers that they toss into the water. They call out to her and say their tearful goodbyes.

When they leave, she wants to follow, but knows she can't.

The Reaper sits with her until she finally decides to let him take her to the Light.

Another name is crossed out from the list.

Time passes.

Five hundred, four hundred, three hundred. Each soul is collected one after the other. Name after name is scratched off. Time slips through like loose sand in an open palm, yet feels like an eternity all at once. He does not know why he works as hard as he does, but only that he must.

He has grown used to this way of existence, yet he finds himself weary of it. So close, yet so far from the end of it all. In passing, he sees others of his kind. Unlike him, they take a more leisurely approach to their reapings. Some are even excited for their jobs, while a few rare ones take pity on their charges.

A man’s soul rises from his body. A bright red string appears, connecting him to it still. A gunshot resounds, but not on the mortal plane.

The Reaper evaporates the shotgun in his hand into a dark cloud of smoke that fades into thin air. He watches as the dead mortal looks at his partner, still barely clinging to life under the wreckage. When the mortal finally takes notice of him, the Reaper indicates the Light. But his charge asks for more time to decide. Things aren’t looking good for his partner either, so he wants to wait for them. Half an hour in human time painstakingly passes. The Reaper remains still. The paramedics have finally arrived and are checking pulses. One victim is slowly slipping away while the other is already speaking with a reaper.

“Y’know, you could let these two pass on together,” a scraggly voice from a disheveled reaper says. He hobbles up closer with his wobbly, wooden leg. The moonlight shines on the scene of the crash, but not on them, for they are not of this plane. This reaper wears a mask that resembles a scarecrow with a mouth haphazardly sewn shut. The visible parts of his skin are covered in soot, his clothes have patches, and he looks badly burnt all over. It isn’t hard to guess how he died. “Lookit ‘im. You can’t spare a few more minutes?”

Things aren't looking favorable for the remaining mortal. Another soul slowly rises and another red string appears. The disheveled reaper takes out his own scythe. His, however, is shaped like a bomb launcher. He pulls the trigger and the bomb hits the string, severing it in the blast. The two mortal souls meet. Hand in hand, they are ushered towards the Light. All signs of old age, sickness, and injury are shed from their forms like loose sand in the pure, bright glow. They're crying, but they're also smiling. The Reaper doesn't understand why. The couple thanks the reapers and they take each other’s hands as they head into the Light.

“They wouldn’t have gone to the Light without each other, so I guess I did you a favor, huh?” He throws his bomb launcher behind him and it disappears in a puff of orange smoke. “Say, you’re that #R-34-something guy with the perfect record, aren’t ye? The others say you never actually let any of your charges stay even if they say they want to. Is that true? Is that why the higher-ups like you so much?”

His question is met with silence.

“Y’know, there’s no punishment for letting them stay and you moving on to the next job. If you miss one, the System’ll just bump up another name on the list. You don’t always have to scare them into going, y’know.”

The Reaper slowly turns his head and takes a moment to pierce the disheveled reaper with his gaze, sending a chill through his form. “You talk too much.” 

He crosses out the name on his list and taps the next one, instantly disappearing in a cloud of black smoke.

More time passes.

Sometimes he sees the widow again. But every time he does, she appears paler and colder. This time, her lips are a sickly purple. Her blue face still holds that blank, unfeeling stare. She holds her scope up to her eye, aiming at the Reaper’s next job: a monk giving a speech. A short-haired young woman tries to save the monk. She is unbelievably quick with that huge device on her chest, but not quick enough to save the monk from the widow’s bullet.

The monk is disappointed to discover how little time he had, but he goes peacefully into the Light.

* * * * *

A dark figure emerges from the crowd of the blaringly bright white room.

Everybody around him makes way. Reaper #R-34937 is an outlier among his kind now, having set new records for his reapings. The black, ornate desk before him sticks out like a blemish against the “walls” that extend to eternity if one tries to touch them.

“Hey, you’re back.” Sombra looks up from her screen at him with a smug smile. R-34937 scans his hand and the machine sounds off with the confirmation. The screen pops up in front of Sombra with R-34937’s file. She clicks and scrolls through it, checking all the data and records. “Impressive as usual, Mr. R.”

Her smug smile falls at his silence. She sighs and rolls her eyes.

“Would it kill you to show some kind of exp—oh wait.” She chuckles. “Mask, right.”

“My quota.” He says flatly with impatience.

“Yeah yeah, they’re being approved, don’t worry.” She dismissively waves her hand in the air. A moment passes and her screen lets off a sound. She taps it with a sharp, purple nail. “Oh, we’ve got a script.” She looks to him to make sure he is paying attention.

He crosses his arms. 

“Congratulations, Reaper #R-34937. Your reward for your hard work will be yours once you finish this final job.” She says with sarcastic enthusiasm. “With your record-breaking proficiency, you have been deemed qualified to take on this final job that will qualify you to complete your contract. You will be given access to the confidential file of a special case.” Sombra opens the file on her screen and her eyes fly wide open. She looks back and forth at a couple of things for a while and holds an incredulous look on her face. After examining the screen, she looks at him with a tinge of pity. “This'll be... interesting.” She grabs a file from the screen and flicks it over in a beam of light to R-34937’s open hand.

He opens the beam of light into a rectangle. He had only ever been given lists, so seeing a file—seeing what Sombra sees—is new for him.

There must be a catch.

“This mortal has quite a reputation with our records. We call him ‘The Living Ghost,’” Sombra says warily before she continues the script. “This case is special because of this mortal’s outstanding ability to forgo our System on a record-breaking amount of occasions.” Sombra squints at the screen and scrolls down some more. “Yeah, they’re not messing around. Look at his expiration date. He was supposed to die  _ ten  _ years ago in mortal time! Look at all these other skipped expiration dates they tried setting for him. I’ve never seen  _ this _ many!” Sombra continues to excitedly scroll down the mortal’s profile. Her eyes glow with excitement in the light.

The Reaper looks at the file. There is a picture of the mortal in question at the top. He looks just like any other person the Reaper has collected. What could be keeping him alive for so much longer than the System mandated? The longest avoidance period is generally known to range up to a year.  _ Ten years _ is an exceptionally long time to avoid a due date.

“Oh right, script…” Sombra says, cutting off his ponderings. “You are to reap this soul and bring him to the Light by  _ any _ means necessary. Upon doing so, you may collect your reward to go to the Light yourself. In order to aid you in this assignment, you will be allowed certain privileges.”

“Privileges?”

“Hm, it doesn’t say exactly.” Sombra shrugs. “Anyway,” she continues, “These privileges will be effective immediately.” She pulls up a fist with something inside it and motions for the Reaper to reach out a hand. She opens her fingers one by one in a wave of purple nails to drop a ring that glows with a warm, bright red light. “Don’t worry, I’m not trying to marry you. No offense, but I'm too old for you and you're not my type.” 

He pays no mind to that comment and slips the ring on his left middle finger. Once it's on, it glows bright red and settles itself into his form, causing a surge of foreign energy to pulsate through him. As soon as it finishes, he speaks. 

"Sombra, what  _ was _ that?”

Sombra gives him a surprised look. “The privileges... Did you just— you know what, nevermind.” She waves in dismissal. “Anyway,” she continues again, sounding a bit surprised. “You have three days in human time to complete your task. Each day has been marked as an expiration date. Failure to complete the assignment will result in revoking the given privileges and the reinstating of your contract in full. Good luck, reaper #R-34937.” She says the last sentence with a bit of disgust and mumbles to herself. “...Yeah, no pressure or anything.”

“Let’s just get this over with.” His voice is still gravelly and metallic. He isn’t sure what has changed yet. He reads over the file again, only skimming for necessary details.

Sombra looks away from the screen and leans over on the Desk. “Look, I don’t know what they made me give you, but that is some tough love,  _ muchacho _ . This guy looks like bad news. You know this is a big gamble, right?”

“I know.”

“This guy's been cheating death for years. Everyone assigned to him ends up passing on him. If he manages to live, you're back to square one.” She leans over, “Are you sure about this?”

“No going back now.”

“You’re really desperate to leave, aren’t you? Do you even know what’s waiting for you?”

There is a brief hesitation before he answers. “I don't… But I need to cross over.”

“What, you’re not gonna miss me?” She teases as she leans her elbows on the dark wood.

“Don’t count on it.”

“You know, this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak. Full sentences, even— well, sort of.” Sombra leans back with a smirk and crosses her arms in amusement. She peers into the dark holes of his mask, trying to see what’s behind. “Are you feeling okay, Mr. R?”

“I’m fine. Is this all there is to the briefing?”

“…Yes. ” Another look of surprise on her face. “Come back if you need anything, okay?”

The Reaper looks away from the file and makes eye contact with Sombra. The file flies back to her screen. “Understood. …Thanks.” And with that, he taps on the name and dissipates in a cloud of smoke. 

“So he  _ does _ have a soul.” She says to herself, confounded at her first full conversation with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Welcome and thank you for reading!  
> This is a little work of love that took me a couple years to finish, so I hope you enjoy!
> 
> By the way, as a heads up, this is an AU loosely based on canon Overwatch lore.  
>   
> [Link to my art blog here!](https://blackglitter-art.tumblr.com/)


	2. The Living Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween to those reading this as each chapter releases!  
> Also I know I said Fridays, but it's Saturday at 2AM as I publish this. Close enough.

“ _Come out and fight!_ ”

Three young men stand back to back in a narrow alleyway bathed in moonlight and a few street lamps. They grip their bats tightly in their hands that glow with the outline of a skeleton tattoo that continues on the rest of their bodies. The one glowing purple turns his head and in the corner of his eye, he sees a thin, red, glowing line in the darkness. It emerges and clocks him in the face, making him hit the wall behind him. His face hits the tiled ground. 

The figure with the glowing red line emerges into the alley and goes for the two remaining skeletons. In the light, the red line turns out to be part of a mask. The man before them is tall and muscular with short, silver hair and a huge scar slashed across his pale face. The pink and green skeletons swing their bats, but they both miss. The silver-haired stranger knocks out the pink skeleton and goes for the green, successfully striking him against the wall. The stranger turns just in time to parry the purple skeleton attacking from behind, elbowing him in the jaw. Another skeleton joins in and the scuffle continues without success. 

Another one of their comrades loading a box into a crate takes notice and makes eye contact with the red, glowing line. He drops the box and whistles for the others. 

Not too far away, a young girl watches in fear as the young man takes a large gatling gun from another crate full of piñatas and starts firing down the alleyway towards the stranger. She curls up tighter, hoping not to get hit.

The stranger gets out of the way in time, only to hear the shower of even more bullets. There are more of the skeletons above on the roofs, now raining their fire of metal on the ground. The stranger takes a few seconds before he dashes out onto the street beneath the shower of bullets and makes a break for it. He fires a few rockets at the young man with the gatling gun. There is a burst of smoke and flame. The skeletons on the roof continue to shoot. 

The young girl is able to see the stranger from where she hides. He runs up to a pile of boxes and flips off, firing three shots into the air. 

Seconds later, three bodies fall to the floor. 

“ _No! No, no, no, no, no!_ ” The purple skeleton desperately mutters as he tries to crawl away on the floor. The stranger lowers his gun and calmly walks towards him, knowing full well that his target isn’t going anywhere. The young man begins to beg for mercy as the stranger picks up a burnt piece of a piñata and starts beating him with it. 

The stranger roars with his deep, gruff voice and strikes him between words in Spanish. “ _THESE. AREN’T. YOUR. STREETS. ANYMORE!_ ” At the final strike, the silver-haired stranger hears a young girl scream. He looks up with a grunt and she begins to run away from him.

The stranger stands up straight and hears a vehicle approaching from behind. A young man’s voice screams, “ _Get on the truck, let’s go!_ ” He turns around to see the skeletons that are still able to run making a break for the vehicle. 

“ _You don’t get off that easy,_ ” he says as he takes his gun into position and runs towards them. 

“ _Eat this!_ ” An orange skeleton yells as he pulls the pin on a grenade and throws it in the stranger’s direction. It hits the ground and he laughs as he makes his escape. The stranger sees that it lands right at the feet of the young girl and curses under his breath as he looks back at the escaping skeletons. 

The young girl has landed on her backside and whimpers as she tries to get away from the explosive. The beeping becomes louder and more rapid as each second passes. She screams.

The bomb goes off in the alleyway. 

There is silence as a blue leather jacket on large, scarred shoulders is scraped against the concrete. The man in the jacket is still, but only for a moment. He lets out an exhale and begins to pant as he gets up, making sure the young girl in his arms is safe. She looks up at his glowing mask and he lets go of her as he hoists himself to his feet with a groan. His side is injured and he holds a hand over it. Looking at the aftermath of the explosion behind him, he grumbles something under his breath. The stranger stares into the smoke and ash as if he is watching for something.

The girl stares him down, trying to make sense of what just happened. “You… saved me.” The girl says cautiously in English. “Why?”

The stranger turns back around and the girl is startled, but the man continues to stand where he is, holding his side. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Run home, kid. It ain’t safe around here,” he says. His accent is American. The girl watches as he pulls something from his pocket and throws it at her. It’s her coin purse that she had probably lost earlier, considering the look in her eyes. She smiles at him and despite what little of his face the mask shows, she can see that he smiles back. He turns around and walks away to retrieve his rifle. 

“You’re one of those heroes, aren’t you?” She calls out to him as he walks away. A large number ‘76’ is on his jacket in a bold shade of red, outlined by some yellow trim on white leather. She sees the burn marks and visible damage from the explosion on his back, wincing at the pain he had to endure for her sake.

He stops for a moment and turns his head to respond, “Not anymore.” He continues on his way.

“ _I_ think you are,” she says fondly as she watches him disappear into the night.

The Reaper emerges from the aftermath of the explosion.

Nearby, a few of his kind are reaping the souls that have left their bodies on this night. Despite this damage, there are surprisingly only a few. A large reaper with a pig-shaped gas mask hooks a red string connected to one of the mortals and silently looks in his direction. The Reaper barely pays them any mind, for he is focused on his own charge who haggardly walks away from the scene of the wreckage. The mortal man looks around for any clues as to where the truck could have gone, but judging by his body language, it’s too late to track it down.

The man continues on his way, assumedly looking for some kind of shelter to tend to his wounds. Upon further examination, he is bleeding profusely. He was probably hiding the severity of his wounds from the young girl. The Reaper wonders if this is how it will end for him. Judging by this man’s wounds, he would need to seek immediate medical attention if he didn’t want to bleed to death.

It couldn’t be this easy, right?

The Reaper simply follows.

But instead of heading to a hospital, the man limps all the way to the nearest doors of a church. The white brick building stands tall and welcoming with its windows that glow a warm yellow. The man drags himself to the front doors and opens them, chest still heaving.

There is no other living soul in the room with the Reaper’s charge, and the man gives a gruff sigh before he sits himself down on one of the pews. He opens his jacket and takes it off, revealing his dark shirt covered in blood. Lifting his bloodied shirt, he reveals a large piece of shrapnel lodged into his side along with a large bruise surrounding it. He grunts in disapproval and leans his head back for a bit to rest.

Is this it?

The sound of a door creaking open resounds from across the room. An omnic shaped somewhat like a person turns on the lights. Their glowing cerulean eye holes widen as they see the wounded masked man heavily breathing in the back of the church. They make their way over and speak in Spanish, asking what is wrong and if they can do anything to help. In his decent-enough Spanish, the man asks them to not alert anyone and to just fetch a medical kit. The priest nods and walks in a brisk pace to get the first aid kit behind a podium at the front of the church. Meanwhile, the Reaper’s charge looks back at the trail of blood droplets he made and sighs.

The Reaper watches as the priest helps remove the piece of shrapnel and tends to the wound. They offer the man a ride to the nearest hospital, but for some reason, he refuses to go. He then asks the priest to let him rest at the pews for the night. The omnic offers a bed and some food, but he refuses both as well. After some negotiation, he acquiesces to a few bottles of water and practically inhales two of them. The Reaper has taken a few people who died from drinking too much water at once, but he doesn’t think this is it either.

After cleaning up the blood from the tiled floor, the priest checks in on the man once more before going back to their room. He lays some kind of can next to himself and switches it on, making it glow yellow in a small radius. With a sigh, he leans over and falls asleep with his mask still on his face.

Stubborn. Lethally stubborn. 

Perhaps this is it?

The Reaper waits.

...

An hour passes. Two, three. The man still continues to breathe. More time passes.

Something about this man is different from the other mortals.

...

The sun begins to rise and birds begin to chirp outside of the church. With a gruff groan, the mortal wakes up and hoists himself off the pew. He picks up his gun and cleans up after himself. After he's finished, he walks off into the early morning light. Oddly enough, he walks as if he hadn’t been wounded mere hours ago.

Curiously, the Reaper follows.

The Reaper’s charge seems to be in surprisingly good shape despite his situation.

The Reaper soon realizes this as he follows the man on a hike around a mountain to a large aircraft. It is shaped almost like a mechanical whale and reads “ORCA MV-261.” The ORCA sits in brushes, far away from sight of any curious or prying eyes. His charge walks up to the aircraft and the door opens, making a ramp for him to walk inside. It closes behind him and he goes to the communicator at the head of the ship. The ship’s AI welcomes him, calling him “Jack.” He makes a call for someone named Ana, but there is no answer. He leaves a message, briefing his reconnaissance mission that he had apparently been on for the past week.

The man refreshes himself and prepares some leftover food. As the food is being heated, he goes to the command center and begins to play a song on the ship’s speakers. It’s an old jazz song with a lulling melody. 

_You'll never know just how much I miss you_

_You'll never know just how much I care_

_And if I tried, I still couldn't hide my love for you_

_You ought to know, for haven't I told you so_

_A million or more times?_

The Reaper observes the man with his mask removed. The man has considerably handsome features. There are worry lines on his forehead, which isn’t a surprise, considering his age and the life he leads. Despite his silvery-white hair, his eyebrows are still dark and thick. He must have been blond in his youth, for they retain a dark, dirty blond coloration. Beneath those brows are beautiful eyes, a deep blue like the ocean, and deep in thought as he eats. There are two large parallel scars across his face. The first slash runs from his forehead on the left, down his nose, and ends at his shapely jaw on the right. The second is smaller and starts near the bottom of his left cheek, cutting through his thin lips and down to the end of his chin. The slashes look like they have been there for years. 

What were they from, the Reaper wonders? The song stops and the mortal tells the AI to play it again.

The man plays the whole song on repeat a few more times before he settles on the couch to lay down. He doesn’t seem like he will die in his sleep, so the Reaper decides to wander around the aircraft. The ship looks like a large room with aircraft seats lining the walls and a cockpit at the end. The rest of the large space contains a long corner couch, a table with a holographic map, and a basketball hoop in the far corner by the medical supplies. Looking around at the rest of the ship, it seems practically habitable as living quarters and could definitely accommodate an entire strike team for transportation. Despite this, the man is alone. 

The Reaper ends up taking a look at the old pictures taped to one of the walls. They look like they've been there for a while. Some are faded from sunlight while others have more color. There are a variety of pictures with different smiling faces and even a gorilla... or a man in a gorilla suit. The Reaper isn't sure.

A certain picture, however, captures his attention. It contains a familiar face that he has seen before. There is a man with dark hair and a mustache in a tuxedo. He has kind eyes and is smiling brightly. The woman next to him is in a white wedding gown. She also smiles with a contented look on her pale, porcelain face. She too, is familiar. Her skin isn’t that sickly blue he remembers seeing every once in a while. It’s strange to see her again as a shadow of what she once was. Her smile is full of life as she and her husband hold hands and pose for the picture.

A hand suddenly runs through part of his form and the Reaper turns to see his charge has stirred in his sleep. The man wakes up with a start and sits up, panting. His eyes are wide and his eyes dart around the room. 

Meanwhile, the Reaper has retreated behind one of the corners. He hadn’t realized how close he stood next to the sleeping man. More importantly, something weird happened when his hand ran through him. He had seen a flash of what might be a vision, but it had passed as quickly as the hand had gone through his own. 

A strange feeling overtakes him. But he hasn’t felt emotion in so long, that he isn’t sure what exactly this is. It must be part of the privileges that the ring had given him.

But Reapers don't need to feel. Whatever it was, he doesn't need it and he intends to avoid it as much as possible till the job is done.

He hears his charge sigh and get up to equip himself. What does this mortal think he's doing so soon after his brush with death? 

He doesn’t take long to prepare and takes off into the morning light towards the city. 

The Reaper follows, still curious, but making sure to keep his distance.

* * * * *

The man navigates through the shadows of the city till he is in the alley from last night. 

There is a crowd and a slew of news reporters surrounding the scene. The bodies have been taken away and the aftermath of the fight is more visible in the daylight. The Reaper wonders why he would return to the scene of the crime until he realizes that the man catches sight of someone they had seen before and begins to follow them. 

It takes time and patience tailing his target, but the Reaper’s charge finally reaches the hideout of the skeletons. The man calmly walks under the moonlight into what is most certainly a death wish.

...

This man is insane. 

That's the only conclusion the Reaper can come to. This is it. This is how his charge is going to die. Guns blazing and killed by a bunch of criminals.

Well, he’s seen worse. If he could feel any kind of pleasure, this would make for an entertaining end.

An hour passes. A few more explosions go off in that time. Some of the Reaper’s kind show up, including the scarecrow reaper and a few other familiar masks.

This man is insane. This man is _absolutely_ insane, but he’s... actually pulling it off. One after the other, these “young punks” fall to the hands of this crazy man. The Reaper watches with great focus, for the mortal’s movements speak volumes of the years and experience in his walk of life.

As the last of the screams echo through the base, it's over.

Single-handedly, this injured madman managed to take down an entire gang with nothing but a pulse rifle and a few of those glowing cans. 

There was a reason this man came alone. Considering his display of skill, he _is_ a one-man strike team.

The man notifies the local authorities with a skeleton’s stolen phone and drops it on the ground. He leaves the scene, picking up a slightly singed piñata shaped like a donkey. He places it under his arm and gives it a pat on its head, slightly ruffling its multicolored paper. The smell of smoke fills the air and sirens wail in the distance as the man takes off into the night.

It was already established that this man is insane, but he begins to act even more strangely.

On the way back, the mortal takes a different route. He keeps making unnecessary detours and circling around, almost as if he knows someone is following him.

Finally, the man reaches his aircraft and goes inside quickly. The Reaper stays outside and looks around to see if someone was actually following. He stays there a while, but nobody appears. 

_How is this man going to die?_ He wonders as he makes his way back.

The aircraft is taking off, so the Reaper turns into smoke and slithers his way inside. His form flows through the ship's exterior and manifests back into his humanoid form.

...

Signs on the screens show that the aircraft is set on autopilot after takeoff.

The mortal stops what he is doing and reaches for his pulse rifle.

“I don't know how you got in, but I know you're in here,” says the man in his gruff voice. “No use in hiding.” He calls out as he fiddles a bit more with the control panel. After a while, he heads down from the cockpit and back to the couch. He stands in that area with his rifle and waits. The mask and jacket are off now and he looks around the aircraft. If he had known what to look for, he would have caught a glimpse of black mist disappearing behind a corner. Instead, his mortal brain tells him it's a shadow. “Gotcha.” He says as he readies himself.

_No way... Can he…?_

Before the Reaper's assignment can turn the corner, he looks down at his feet and gasps at the sight. Black smoke rolls around him, coming from whatever is on the other side. Looking up, he realizes the black smoke is emanating from a dark figure that is now in front of him. He squints to make out the shape of it: a hooded humanoid being with broad shoulders and a slightly taller stature than his. He readies his rifle.

The mist wraps around him and he takes a step back. “Who— Wh- _what_ are you?” He asks with squinted eyes. The black mist grows thicker and spreads further by the second. The mortal’s breath shallows.

**[A/N: The picture is kind of big, so you might have to scroll right]**

“John Morrison…” A gravelly, metallic voice seethes from the dark. Two red dots of light shine through the darkness, almost like eyes. More red dots begin to flow out of the two, multiplying and surrounding the mortal man in glowing red eye shapes that flow like autumn leaves in a river. He takes another step back, tripping and landing himself on the couch. His rifle falls next to him on the seat. The mist curls around his limbs and around his neck, slinking around his flesh like tentacles. Morrison doesn't feel this dark, otherworldly mist on his mortal skin, yet he is still frozen in place. The dark hooded figure approaches to stand before him. 

“Who are you? What do you want?” John Morrison demands. He dares to pull back as far as he can and lifts his rifle. The mist still surrounds him and a bead of sweat falls down his face. It continues to advance. He fires one shot directly at the thing, but the bullet flies right through it and wrecks the basketball hoop on the wall.

“Bad idea,” it says as the eyes begin to blink in their own erratic rhythms and the darkness of the mist deepens. “John Morrison, you are going to die soon.”

The mortal visibly bristles at the use of his own name. His blue eyes hold a calculating look. Something sparks a skeptical look in his eyes. “ _Soon?_ ” He asks, one brow raised. “That's an… interesting threat. So are you gonna try to kill me or not?” There is something akin to impatience in his tone.

The figure pauses and the glowing red eyes suddenly fade. “...No…” It seems almost at a loss for words. 

“Then why are you here and why are you threatening me?” He looks around and the mist begins to dissipate from around him.

The black smoke gathers back into one mass to clearly reveal a hooded human-like figure in a mask shaped like the skull of an owl. Whatever it is, it looks like a man standing before him and it remains silent.

“Impressive entrance and all, but you’d make a terrible assassin. I hope you know that.” He places down his rifle and crosses his arms. “If you're not here to kill me, then what do you want from me?”

“...Your soul.” It replies. It sounds almost like it's trying to hide its uncertainty.

“So... you _are_ here to kill me?” He looks to his rifle on the couch and moves towards it again.

“No… I'm not here to kill you, John Morrison.” The man stops in his tracks and scowls at the thing.

“Okay… Then what? Why are you following me?” He sounds almost annoyed. “How’d you even get past the AI?”

There is a pause before the Reaper speaks. “I didn't expect you to be able to sense me. Mortals usually don't.” Underneath all the roughness of his voice, he sounds almost confused.

“So you're some kind of... ghost?” He looks around, squinting. “Is this some kind of AI prank Winston put in the system?” He reaches out to put a hand through the mist still floating around. His fingers pass right through it, undisturbed.

“I am a reaper, come to collect your soul when you die. And you, John Morrison, will die soon.”

He pauses to think for a second. His tone sobers. “So it was _you_ I felt following me on the way back here... ” He takes a few seconds to think. “How do I know you’re not just some weird guy in a robe and mask trying to kill me?”

“Your bullet went right through me.”

The man squints and looks up at the destroyed basketball hoop behind him. “Still not convinced.”

“I don't appear in pictures. Try it.”

At first, the mortal looks at him skeptically, but he eventually complies when the Reaper crosses his arms impatiently. He takes out a cellphone and aims the camera at the thing. The flash goes off and he looks at his phone. Looking intensely back and forth towards the dark being and his phone for a second. He takes another. Then a burst. Then a video.

Nothing but a broken basketball hoop.

The Reaper waits, staring silently. The mortal gets a good look at him. The thing isn't breathing either. No sound or movement; just an unearthly stillness. And the mist doesn't catch light or move to his touch. It seems to exist on its own physical laws. Morrison looks down for a moment and finally lets out a little sigh. “Can’t dispute that, I guess. So my time’s really up, then?” He looks into the being’s mask. “...Do you know how?”

“I am but a symptom of your death. I don’t know how it will happen, only that it will.”

“Okay…” He sighs as he stares at the floor. He doesn't look up. “Do you know when?”

“Not exactly. But in human time, you will die within the next three days.”

“Shit,” he says simply and slumps back on the couch. “And you're just gonna... follow me around till then?”

“As my job dictates, yes.”

“Alright, then.” He says as he settles on the blue cushion and quiets for a while, seemingly lost in thought.

The mortal remains that way for a while.

The Reaper stays where he is, unsure of what to do with himself now that he knows he can be seen. So he waits and watches as he usually does. But this time, not for his charge to die.

A few silent moments pass. John Morrison finally moves from his spot and heads to the cockpit, changing the coordinates of his destination and leaving another message for Ana about his earlier course of action. He walks down from the cockpit and pulls out a tin box from the medical supplies kit. He walks through the tendrils of mist emanating from the dark being in his ship to the couch and sits himself down. Opening the box, he pulls out a needle and some thread. Pulling his jacket, which was strewn haphazardly on the floor, he begins to appraise the damage.

The Reaper has seen people die from needles as simple as those, but does not think this is the way he will die.

“Are you just gonna stand there the whole time?” Morrison asks as he struggles to knot the thread together with his large, calloused fingers. 

“You’re attempting to sew?” The Reaper asks.

“‘ _Attempting?’_ What’s that supposed to mean?” His brows furrow at the Reaper’s question. He goes back to trying to knot the thread.

“You can’t just close a hole in a leather jacket with a regular thread and needle.”

“...Still gonna.” He mumbles defiantly.

He gets the thread in the needle and tries. It doesn’t work out very well. His large, strong fingers snap the needle in two pieces and he sighs.

“You're better off fixing the hole in your other shirt with that kind of needle.”

Morrison looks up from the pieces of his failed project and squints skeptically into the eye holes of the Reaper’s mask. “I thought you were the grim reaper, not my fairy… grandfather or whatever. Why are you tryin’ to help me?”

“...You’re just painful to watch.”

The man huffs and starts over, this time struggling to knot the thread. 

“It’s easier if you make the thread even at the ends and tie them together in a knot.”

Morrison looks up incredulously, his eyes rapidly blinking for a second. There’s a pause and he looks to his thread and back to the Reaper. “You know, I never thought I’d be spending my final days getting sewing advice from a grim reaper.”

“Just do it.”

The man huffs and gives it a try. “Whaddya know?” He seems impressed as he finally ties the knot. “...Thanks,” he says hesitantly. But when he looks, up the Reaper has retreated back behind the corner. He shrugs and pulls out his damaged shirt.

More time passes. The shirt is repaired, although noticeably so, and he pops it and some other clothes in the washer. 

“So you said mortals can’t usually sense you, right?” The Reaper stands several feet away, still in the same corner. From where Morrison stands, he can see it better than from the couch. “Why me, then?”

“I've been seen by very few mortals. Usually ones with the Sight. You don't have it, so I'm not sure what happened.”

“How do you know?”

“You didn't sense me when I first appeared.”

“So you've been following me even before this? Since when?” 

“Since the alley in that Mexican town. Before the explosion.”

“Oh. Did you try all that red-eyed mist stuff earlier on me during that time?”

“No.”

He takes a second to think. “...So is that what you like to do when a ‘mortal’ sees you? Get all... creepy like that?”

“...No. I didn't expect you to sense me.”

Morrison squints as he thinks for a brief moment. “So you're saying... I surprised you and you decided to be dramatic about it?” 

The Reaper’s form slowly dissipates into black mist and flows further away.

“...Wait, was I right?”

The mist continues to float further.

“Wait, really?” Morrison tries to stifle a laugh, but lets out a bit of a snort. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” He is failing to contain his amusement. Failing miserably.

The Reaper reforms on the other side of the ship, still standing, but with his arms now crossed. “I hope your death comes sooner.”

“I said I'm sorry.” Morrison shrugs. “You can't blame a guy for calling it like he sees it. Hopefully it'll take more than your wishes to finally do me in.” He looks at the Reaper with his deep blue eyes. The Reaper turns its head away. 

"So from what you said… You don’t decide when or how I die?” He asks after a moment.

“No. In fact, you’re hard to kill according to your record. My kind calls you the ‘Living Ghost’ because you’ve cheated death more times than anyone on our lists.”

He pauses to think for a bit. “Well, I _have_ survived plenty of things I shouldn’t have. Can’t really dispute that, I guess.” He raises an eyebrow. “So… ‘The Living Ghost,’ huh? I like the sound of that.” He thinks for a second. “And you mentioned records. So we really are documented in the afterlife?”

“I—”

The AI cuts the Reaper off and alerts of an incoming call. Morrison tells the AI to put it on. Appearing on the screen is a woman with a strong brown eye, slightly wrinkled skin the color of clay, and braided hair that is silver like storm clouds. 

The Reaper can't help but stare at the tattoo under her unpatched left eye, resembling the Eye of Horus. Something about that mark makes him lose himself in thought.

“Jack! You lunatic, your handiwork is all over the news in Mexico! Also, I just got your messages. Why are you heading to California?” Her accent and voice are crisp like the sound of stepping on sand. The sound of its digitized version reverberates throughout the large common area of the ship. The aircraft in its hangar in the background places her at some kind of high-tech facility.

“I've got some business to attend to in the states before I head back to base. I'll be back in no time.”

She frowns. “Did something happen? Are you okay?”

“Just visiting a few places before I go… back. Say ‘hi’ to everyone for me.”

“I may have lost an eye and be getting old, but my bullshit radar is still strong,” she says as she confidently points at her eye and back at him through the screen. “Do you at least have enough biotic fields for whatever you're doing?” 

He gives a little sigh. “It's really just a few visits. Can't an old man take a nostalgia trip? Don't worry, I’m not planning to get into any more trouble.” 

“I’m trusting you on that, Jack.” She says with a stern look. “Call me if you need anything.”

“Of course, Ana. Thank you. I'll see you soon.” With that, Morrison ends the call. So he prefers to go by Jack like the note in his file said.

The Reaper’s arms are still crossed. The mortal notices and shrugs as he heads to the bathroom to refresh himself.

Eventually, Morrison comes out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. The Reaper observes the human. He is... attractive. Very fit and muscular. The man's jawline is strong with a nicely shaped shadow of stubble surrounding his thin lips. The hair on his head is a silvery white and has thinned from age. His eyes are kind and deep blue like the ocean, undisturbed by the two slash-shaped scars on his face. Other old scars litter his pale skin. Faint traces of a bullet through his throat. An especially large slash running from his left clavicle to his sternum. The place where the bullet hit him in Mexico is bandaged, but it isn't spotted in red as it should be. Interesting.

Morrison heads to the laundry machine, pulls his freshly dried clothes out, and puts them on. He looks to the corner and the Reaper is still there in the same position he left him in. “Let me know when you're done sulking. I can bring you around LA when we get there.” He says as he plops himself on the couch and falls asleep right away.

The Reaper uncrosses his arms and examines Morrison. He's sleeping soundly and his neck is in a horrible position, but the Reaper is sure he won't die from it. He knows this because of the more pressing matter at hand. Merely hours ago, this man was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side, and now he sleeps on the couch like he just had a long day at work. Not to mention, a good amount of those scars seemed like wounds that should have killed him.

Healing technology in this age shouldn't be that advanced yet. The Reaper has seen enough deaths to know what a human should and shouldn't be able to survive. Perhaps there’s something different about this man. Something very different, and it definitely has something to do with his outstanding record of times he's cheated death. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did the fight scene seem familiar?  
> Yeah, I stole it from [Soldier 76's cinematic!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cPRRupAM4DI)
> 
> Also here's the song Jack was listening to:  
> [You'll Never Know by Renee Fleming](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bgqcG-vrU6k)
> 
>   
> [Link to my art blog here!](https://blackglitter-art.tumblr.com/)


	3. Warmth

The aircraft doesn't crash or encounter any problems. 

In fact, it safely lands in LAX Airport and is greeted by security. After confirming his identification, Morrison is welcomed and his aircraft is taken care of, courtesy of the City of Los Angeles. 

“Perks of being an Overwatch agent,” he says off-handedly to his stowaway. John Morrison makes it out of the airport unscathed and unbothered. This is not it either.

The Reaper follows as Morrison, dressed in his civilian clothing, walks out into the city.

“You used a different name.”

“Yeah, and?”

The Reaper remains silent.

Morrison walks for a mile and he ends up at a red and white building. A large yellow arrow runs through the logo. He watches the man wait in line, order three cheeseburgers, fries, and a large coke. He waits for his order to be ready, then sits down at a table outside. It's still morning, so the place isn't too crowded yet.

“You came straight from Mexico to get burgers in Los Angeles...” The Reaper says, sounding almost critical.

“What's it to you?” Morrison nonchalantly asks as he chews on his second burger and mashes some fries in for measure. Charming.

“I once collected a man who died from eating too many of these. Just like how you're eating right now.” The Reaper says as he stands there, watching the mortal eat. 

“If yer tryin’ tuh schcare me, it ain’t workimng.” His words are garbled with the food in his mouth. He finishes chewing and speaks again. “Not everyone gets to have an authentic In-N-Out burger in California. From what you’re saying, I guess they really _are_ to die for.”

“I'm going to pretend you didn't say that. You didn't even order them Animal Style; yours are not worthy of a death.” The Reaper sounds almost disgusted.

Dark blond eyebrows fly up in surprise and he turns his head to the Reaper. “Now you're nitpicking my food choices? What does that even mean? They only have four food options on the menu!” He scoffs in fake exasperation. “Wow, death really is unforgiving, isn't it?” He takes another bite and turns back to the Reaper who is still watching him. “...Did you want some too?”

“You're mocking me, aren't you?”

Morrison simply shrugs and continues his meal.

Soon enough, the Reaper finds himself following John Morrison as he casually walks the streets of Los Angeles.

The Reaper has seen what trouble this man has willingly gotten himself into, so walking down these streets will definitely not be it. Unless he's lucky. The man’s pace is incredibly quick and oddly enough, he enlists himself in a walking tour of the city. The group consists of twelve tourists; thirteen, if one counts the incarnation of death following not too far behind.

The Reaper stays silent for the tour until Morrison finally speaks to him. “Awfully quiet, aren’t you?” He asks as they stand in an exhibit hall of a museum. Its walls are blaringly white, reminding the Reaper of the room with the black ornate desk. “What do you think about this one?” He asks as he points to the sculpture. It stands tall and imposing, made of mirror-polished stainless steel with transparent color coating in the form of an obscenely reflective ocean blue. 

“A giant balloon dog. Really?”

“I dunno about you, but I think it’s great,” says Morrison as he takes his time observing the piece. The giant sculpture engulfs the mortal’s reflection in its blue like he's sunk into the ocean. Morrison stares at the dog with a tinge of amusement in his eyes. He sees his own reflection in the giant sculpture, but his expression falls as he sees the dark shadow looming next to him. 

The Reaper notices and looks at his own reflection: a dark herald of death looms there, seemingly out of place in a room so full of light and life. His reflection is also drowning in the same hue of watery blue.

“It’s supposed to memorialize little things like parties, according to the app.” Morrison says. “So what do you think?” He looks back and forth expectantly. 

The Reaper looks taken aback and seems almost confused at such a casual exchange. The mortal begins to wonder if his otherworldly companion had ever been asked for an opinion. The longer it takes to think, the more he feels certain about his guess.

Eventually, the Reaper responds in a mumble: “...Eyes.” 

“What was that?” He asks.

“...It’s the same color as your eyes. Like the ocean.”

Morrison raises an eyebrow and looks the Reaper up and down. “Very observant,” he says, now sounding a bit preoccupied. They both stand there in silence, looking at the balloon dog for a bit longer.

The tour continues and the Reaper follows silently.

“You used a different name,” the Reaper says again. 

Silence.

“Who is Jackie Reyes?” 

Morrison frowns as he continues on his walk back to LAX. “It's easier than claiming I'm someone who publicly died ten years ago. Also, I was surprised when you first called me John. That’s part of what tipped me off that you were the real deal. Nobody's called me ‘John’ in ages. In fact, I don't think people know that's my legal name. Made me guess you either had some deep intel or were really from the other side. Did it mention my name being ‘Jack’ at all?”

“It did.”

Without warning, the sound of a gunshot goes off in a nearby parking lot. Morrison darts his head in the direction of the sound and unlike most mortals the Reaper has witnessed, he runs towards it.

For a man who has escaped death a countless number of times, he doesn’t seem to have a good sense of self-preservation.

Could this be it?

The Reaper follows behind as Morrison witnesses two hooded men holding guns to a woman clutching her purse for dear life. “Fuck off, I’m not giving you _shit!_ ” She spits. She’s backed into her car. 

“Just give us your money, you f—”

The Reaper watches as Morrison rushes in and comes to the woman’s aid. He manages to disarm and fight them off without any weapons. The woman doesn't hesitate to help him out too.

As Morrison finishes the job, a shabby car comes in. The driver aims a gun at the mortal.

“Watch your back,” says the Reaper. 

Morrison sees in time, but takes the bullet in his bicep. With a grunt of pain, he drops to the floor to pick up one of the unconscious robbers’ guns and shoots the tires of the vehicle. The car crashes into a row of parked cars, and suddenly the parking lot is blaring with alarms. 

“Shit,” he whispers sharply under his breath.

The Reaper sees one of his kind appear on the scene. Her mask looks like a white lotus bud that covers the top half of her face the color of dark teak wood. She stands next to the wreckage expressionless, waiting and watching to see what happens. Her scythe is out. It is shaped like a gun with three prongs resembling flower petals. 

“Dammit, I just washed this shirt.” Says the Reaper’s charge. 

“I'm okay, if you're wondering.” 

Morrison calls out to the dark figure looming behind him. He takes off the jacket he “borrowed” from one of the robbers and puts it in the wash with his other clothes. The man is in newer clothes, but they're almost identical to the ones he is washing. So he's one of _those_ guys.

The bullet had grazed his flesh, so his arm is now bandaged up. He holds a can glowing yellow in his pocket as he reheats some leftover food for himself and puts the news on. The Reaper usually pays no mind to mortal time, but apparently it is a Sunday late in May of 2080. Morrison’s work at that “ _Los Muertos_ ” base is on the news again, but there is no trace of the perpetrator. 

He goes back to observing the mortal.

The wound was properly dressed and he probably won't die from his meal, but the Reaper remains at his post, albeit seemingly preoccupied now.

“Can I ask you something?”

The Reaper remains silent.

Morrison turns his head to the dark figure. “Hello?” He continues bidding for its attention, but no response. He shrugs, finishes the rest of his meal, and walks over to the Reaper, whose arms are crossed. “Are you sulking or something?”

No response. He looks down at his own feet and they're swimming in black mist. The smoky substance is thicker and extends itself longer and farther than usual. In fact, it's covering the floor of most of the ship like fog from a fog machine. 

Morrison puts his left hand to it. The darkness curls around it. _This is new._ He moves and it moves around his hand to avoid it. The closer he gets, the thicker the mist and the easier he is able to move it around. _I wonder..._

He waves his hand around and takes a step closer.

And then again. One step closer. He swats at the smoke.

Then he starts to rapidly wave his hand through it with a slapping motion. The mist continues to move away from his hand.

“Stop that!” The Reaper practically snarls as he looks to the mortal who is now standing a bit too close for comfort. Morrison seems to have forgotten himself and looks back up. Could that be a look of amusement in his eyes? “What do you think you're doing, _mortal_?” The Reaper hisses.

Morrison huffs. The ends of his mouth curve up slightly. “So you _can_ get annoyed. I was just testing something.” He looks down to the mist. “Can you feel me doing this?” He asks as he waves a hand through the dark mist again. 

“I can sense it. Now stop.” He crosses his arms and takes a step away.

“Sorry. Not tryin’ to make you uncomfortable,” he says as he backs up to a more comfortable distance so he doesn't affect the fog. Morrison’s seemingly good mood doesn't fade, but his brow furrows a little. “They seem kind of like whiskers... Anyway, lost in thought?” He could feel its glare from behind the mask. “I was asking you something, but you didn't hear me.” The Reaper turns his head sharply to look directly at him.

“Out with it.” Each word is chewed.

“Back in that parking lot, why did you help me?” He asks as he stands with his arms crossed. The Reaper feels the man's appraising stare from where he stands.

The mist seeps out further in its same thick darkness. “...I don't know.” The Reaper says pensively. “I wasn't supposed to.” Morrison’s lips form a thin line and his brow furrows in response. 

“Then why?” A thoughtful look is in his eyes.

He thinks for a second. “Maybe I'm just... curious to see how long you’ll last. But I shouldn't have done that. In fact, your death is supposed to help me get what I want.”

Morrison tilts his head. “And what do you want?”

“To retire. You're my final job before I can do that.”

“You guys have that kind of thing? What's so special about reaper retirement?”

“I was human once. When I retire, I'll get the rest of my soul back and be able to cross over.”

“Oh,” Morrison seems surprised. “So that's why you seem so human-like. Is that why you know so much about… sewing and In-N-Out?” A brow is raised.

“Watching you humans for so long makes me remember some things about being alive.”

“So you can't cross over till you get the rest of your soul back…” He pauses to think for a second. “That means you've got all of eternity in your hands if you wanted. But all you want is your soul? Why?”

“It contains important memories. There was something I needed to do before I crossed over, but I can’t remember what it was.”

The man grows pensive for a moment before he speaks again. “And you said I was hard to kill. So what happens to you if I don't die within these three days?”

The Reaper grows quiet. “That's none of your concern.”

“So there's a possibility I'll live?”

“The fact that I'm here means your death _will_ happen.”

Morrison sighs and shrugs. “You can't blame a guy for hoping.” They remain silent and Morrison puts the remains of his meal away.

“Why do you still put yourself in danger when you know you're going to die soon?” The Reaper observes the man as he checks his bandages. He takes notice that the wound is healed much faster than it should be.

Morrison sighs and thinks for a bit. “Old habits die hard, I guess. Also at this point, I'd rather go out helping someone instead of wasting my final days trying to delay the inevitable.”

The Reaper remains silent.

“Also, thanks for the save earlier. Do you have a name?” Something about the air around him has changed. A kinder expression is on his face despite the weight of the knowledge thrust upon this man's shoulders.

The Reaper crosses his arms and looks away. “I… don't remember my name.”

A frown falls upon the man's kind expression. “Oh… But you mentioned others like you, right? How do you tell each other apart?”

“We're given numbers. Mine is R-34937.”

“Oh.” He looks contemplative. “Well, I can't just be saying ‘Hey you’ all the time. And ‘R-34937’ sounds like an item from a home improvement store. It’d be weird calling you that since you’re... kind of a person. Plus it's a mouthful.” He looks off to the side to think for a second. “What if I just call you... ‘Reaper?’ How does that sound?” 

“...Do whatever you want,” he turns back for a moment to say. 

“Then you can call me Jack.” The mortal speaks with the same sincerity from a moment ago. Something about his demeanor has changed after their day together. This is the first time the Reaper has seen him with such a kind expression. Was he smiling at him? What a strange man. 

Something stirs within the Reaper and he is too distracted by the feeling to notice that the mortal is holding out his hand. “We'll be stuck together for a while, so we might as well get along, right?” 

Morrison wonders at the hesitation. If a pair of eyes is behind that mask, perhaps he was rolling them. Eventually, the Reaper reaches out with a steady motion. Their hands touch and they both feel a wave of energy course through them like a flash of lightning.

“What was _that_?” Jack asks in surprise. His blue eyes are wide and his breathing is quickened from the shock.

“Not sure,” the Reaper says as he pulls away. “Did you feel my hand?”

“Yeah, actually. You’re pretty cold.” Jack sounds both impressed and bemused.

“I’m death incarnate, what else would you expect?” He retracts his arms back into their crossed position from earlier. “…Also, that was a first. I can't usually touch the living...” He speaks hesitantly.

“I was able to move your smoke around too. Maybe it has something to do with me being able to sense you.” Jack’s pensive expression meets an interruption. “Wait, you were just gonna let me find out that I couldn't touch you?”

“Maybe.”

Jack lets out a laugh. “You bastard!” 

Reaper shrugs.

Later that night, the Reaper's thoughts are consumed by the day’s mysteries.

The Reaper never talked with anyone as much as he had talked with… ‘Jack.’ It was strange how the man warmed up to him so easily. He had thought that this gruff, aged soldier would be another, if not, his most difficult case. But now he seems to be way more amicable than expected. Was it because he helped him?

Not to mention, the way that Jack looks at him. It is expected for mortals to be curious about unusual things like him, but this is different. The man looks at him as if he is watching for something. Whatever it could be is beyond the Reaper. 

Humans will forever be a mystery. Especially this one. 

And when they touched, what was that sudden bolt of energy? He had felt something similar before when the sleeping mortal’s hand unknowingly passed through his form. It was very quick and he wasn't sure how to describe it, but he felt _something_.

This eternity of reaping souls has whittled whatever is left of him down into such a tired, unfeeling being. Witnessing so much death and destruction had made him a mere ripple of the soul he used to be. Whatever this was, it left him craving for more like a withered plant wanting for water. 

He stares at the mortal sleeping soundly despite his approaching doom.

There's something about this man and this energy of his that is certainly different from the others.

Perhaps what he felt was the essence of a living soul? The only souls he had come in contact with belonged to the dead, so this was a first. It would make sense, wouldn’t it?

Reasoning aside, maybe just one more touch wouldn't hurt.

He looks to Morrison who lay asleep. So vulnerable, and so very mortal. Unlike most other mortals, he wakes up every few hours. Sometimes with a start, sometimes not. As of now, he had been sleeping for about half an hour. The Reaper decides that now would be his chance to learn more.

Ever so carefully, the Reaper approaches. He takes a moment to make sure the mortal is surely sleeping before he places a tentative hand over one of his hands. As soon as his fingertips make contact, he is dragged into a vision.

* * * * *

The smell of the ocean. 

The sound of seagulls and other people in the distance. Waves crash against rock and sand as the clear blue sky proudly holds the bright sun in its place. The warmth of the sun’s rays warm the skin of the two younger men the Reaper sees lounging before him. 

One has short, blond hair the color of wheat, and light skin glowing in the sunlight. There are no scars on his face. He is well-built and sits on a beach chair with comfort and confidence. The other man has a dark brown undercut rustled from the breeze. His dark copper face has a neatly trimmed beard and mustache. The well-built shadow he casts is slightly bigger than that of the blond.

They sit side by side on matching chairs, enjoying the view of the many people also enjoying the warm sand and salty air of the beach.

“I never get tired of looking at the ocean,” the blond man says. His voice is still deep, but it sounds smoother and less damaged than how the Reaper usually hears it. “Where I grew up, you could see the end of every body of water, but the ocean is so… It looks like it just goes on for forever!” He says with a look of wonder in his deep blue eyes. His smile is radiant and full of awe. The man sitting next to him chuckles. His eyes are trained on his companion, not even bothering to look at what he describes. There's a tender look in his brown eyes and his lips are cracked into a small smile. He inches closer.

“You know, it's the same color as your eyes.” He leans on the small table in between them. They seem very close. And not just in proximity. 

“You think so?” The blond says as he turns to face the bearded man and finds his face closer than he expected. It may have been the heat of the sun, but his cheeks begin to flush with red. He lets out a little gasp at the surprise of how close he is.

“Hold on, I gotta get a good look.” The other man inches so very close, almost tilting his chair. He looks into his eyes, pretending to examine them. “Yup, it definitely looks like it. Sir, I regret to inform you that it's incurable!” He says with a fake professional voice. They hold their positions, challenging to see who will make a move. “But you know, your eyes are an ocean,” the bearded man says as if he is reciting a poem.

“Oh yeah?” Ocean Eyes encourages by moving in slightly. They both lean in closer, noses almost touching. They challenge with smiles on their faces.

His hands reach up. “Your _tits_ are also an ocean!” He says as he grabs the golden man’s pecs, catching him completely off guard. 

“Gabe!!!” The ocean-eyed young man laughs as he fights off the other man's hands. “Gabe, watch out! The chairs—” But it’s too late. They clumsily fall over, but that doesn’t stop the man in his pursuit. They seem unaffected by neither hitting the small table on the way down nor the toppled beach chairs, for they end up playfully wrestling. “You sound like a horrible porn intro, I can't believe you said that!” He continues to laugh, letting out a little snort as they struggle. They are strong, but evenly matched.

A dark brown eyebrow raises with a mischievous smile. He has the blond in a headlock. “You wanna _make_ it one?” The man squeezes, waggling both of his eyebrows now. He moves his free hand and does a squishing motion as it gets closer to the other man's pecs again. His companion begins to squirm and grabs the arm around his neck. In the blink of an eye, the man called ‘Gabe’ is hoisted and flipped forward, landing with his back on the sand. 

He lands with a grunt and there is a look of excitement in his eyes.

Ocean eyes chuckles, “Not _here_ , there are other people around!” He catches a hand that continues to reach for his chest. The hand ceases the groping motion and points at him.

“You're gonna pay for this later, Jack!” 

“Yeah? Is that a promise?” He teases before he crouches down and leans in for a kiss. 

The Reaper pulls his hand away, almost forgetting where they really were. 

He looks down at the sleeping mortal and thinks back to the vision—no— memory. Jack Morrison is barely recognizable compared to now. The scars and weary look on his aging face are etched into his skin from years of strife, that much is clear. The blond hair that was once gold like wheat is faded and thinned to a silvery-white like snow. Only his eyebrows now contain the darker color of his faded youth. 

_He was so bright and full of life before. What happened?_

The man's scarred lips are slightly parted as he continues to sleep soundly. There's a different, more honest part of him that is exposed as he sleeps. Despite his weary appearance, he seems more peaceful this way. The man seems almost happy, probably still in the dream that the Reaper had intruded on.

Who was that man with him? “Gabe,” he had been called so affectionately. He must have been someone special to Jack. In the past, at least.

Part of him wants to look again, but decides against it. Instead, the Reaper redirects his focus to the feeling that contact with the mortal had given him. Seeing that memory brings him to think of a feeling that he had long-forgotten how to feel himself:

 _Warmth_.

Just like the mortal’s hand when he touched it.

The feeling had been mistaken for the effect of the sun burning on the beach, but he recognizes that a mere memory of the sun cannot warm any being. Even so, there was something about the way that couple looked at each other that carries a certain kind of warmth into Morrison's being. Simply touching this man had infected him with the feeling, but only for a fleeting moment. It felt strange for a being such as a reaper to feel human warmth. It was like trying to warm a large, cold room with a single candle. 

Perhaps this is one of the privileges given by the ring.

It only makes the Reaper even more curious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The balloon dog is real, btw](https://www.thebroad.org/art/jeff-koons/balloon-dog-blue)


	4. You'll Never Know

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was a lil' late, I was watching the whole Unus Annus stream and got carried away.  
> Anyway, memento mori.

“So… No scythe or anything?”

Morrison appraises the dark entity taking up space in his aircraft as he finishes his daily morning workout. It’s been about a day and a half since this thing appeared, and it almost feels like he took in a stray cat. Except that it can provide commentary… and is the harbinger of his nearing and impending demise. So, still kind of like a cat.

The Reaper slowly turns his head from the window. “What?” He sounds confused. And so very human, like a real person who had just been caught off guard. It’s almost hard to imagine that this isn’t just some guy in a mask and hooded robe messing with him. The black tendrils of mist that surround him kind of break that image, though.

“You know, the big stick with the curved blade at the end? You slash it through someone and that kills them or something. ...Or is that just bullshit?”

The Reaper turns his head back to its former position. “I have a ‘scythe,’ but not in that shape. The one you describe is its original form.”

“Oh yeah?” Jack asks as he raises an eyebrow. His arms are crossed as he sits on the couch.

Without another word, the Reaper appears in front of the mortal. He raises a hand and black mist forms in his palm. It thickens and takes the shape of something large and rectangular. The smoke surrounding it quickly dissipates and a black, ornate shotgun is in his hand.

“Wow,” he says when the Reaper brings it closer. As the mortal examines the shotgun, his brows furrow. A spark of perhaps appraisal is in his eyes as they look at each other for a brief second.

“It’s a similar concept. A person dies and the soul leaves the body. A shot from this severs the tie so they can cross over.” He turns the barrel of the shotgun to point at him. “I may have to use it on you soon.”

Jack frowns, but he does not flinch. He looks back up from the gun unafraid, waiting to see what he will do. The Reaper does not move, but the shotgun dissolves into black smoke and the mortal watches it disappear quickly.

“And you really don’t know when or how it’ll happen?”

“No.”

Jack grows silent and the only sound heard in the aircraft is his music softly playing. As of now, it plays the same song from before. 

“Reaper,” he moves to turn it lower and he speaks again, “do you ever remember the people you’ve… collected?” 

“I’ve taken many. It looks like it only hurts when—”

“I don’t need to know. I’ll probably find out soon enough.” Jack interrupts with uneasiness in his voice. “What I’m really trying to ask is… if you might have taken someone specific.”

“I can't and I will not contact your grandma from beyond the grave.”

Jack snorts. “No no, nothing like that.” He shakes his head, dismissing the notion with a bemused grin. “I was just wondering if you ever... took someone named Gabriel Reyes.” There is a tinge of hesitation as he speaks. The name on the man’s lips sounds like there is a lot of history behind it. A look of conflict flashes in his eyes.

No doubt that he’s asking about that “Gabe.” 

“There are countless more like me. And many with that name. I can’t say if I’ve reaped your Gabriel Reyes.”

Jack frowns a bit. “...Would you recognize his face? Maybe a picture could help.” He asks as he gets up from his seat.

Before Jack could get to it, the AI lets off a sound and tells him that he will be landing soon. The rapid speed of the aircraft slowly begins to decline as they approach their destination. Jack asks to hold the thought for later and jogs off to another part of the aircraft to freshen up and get ready to disembark.

The Reaper looks out the window. It’s morning. The time on the monitor reads 9:34 AM. Surrounding them is nothing but farmland as far as the average human eye could see. The aircraft plays the lulling song again.

  
  


_If there is some other way to prove that I love you,_

_I swear I don’t know how_

_You’ll never know if you don’t know—_

“Why do you keep playing the same song?”

“What, you got a problem with Renée Fleming or Vera Lynn?” Jack turns his head around from where he stands. He had been doing maintenance on some part of the ship.

“I don’t.”

“It’s my favorite song,” Jack says nonchalantly.

“Why?”

“...It reminds me of someone.” The Reaper watches him take off a glove and notices a golden band on his ring finger for the first time.

“Your spouse?”

Jack looks up at the Reaper and back down to his hand. He takes a hold of his left hand and fiddles with the ring. “Yeah. It’s a song from an old movie he liked a lot.” The Reaper could see the nostalgic smile on his face from where he stands. 

_He’s a widower._

“I watched it with him more times than I can count. It was a beautiful movie, but I never really understood what he liked so much about that fish man. He’d play it whenever—” Jack looks up, remembering himself. “Sorry, I’m— I'm rambling.” He seems almost guilty for talking about something he seemed to recall so fondly. 

_Why is that?_

He notices the man’s shoulders sink after a small sigh. At that moment, he looks so sad, so lonely.

“...’t’s nice.” Reaper finds himself mumbling to his own surprise.

“I’m sorry, what?” Jack turns to him curiously. 

“It’s nice. The song.” _Why am I saying this?_

“Oh, so you like it too?” He seems almost amused now. But not quite out of whatever he was in.

Reaper crosses his arms. “You said it’s from a movie, right?”

“Yeah, an old one.” An eyebrow is quirked and he feels a trace of warmth from the man.

“...Tell me about it.”

He could feel Jack’s eyes searching him once more. For what, he may never know. But whatever he was looking for, he must have found it, for a fond expression melts onto his face. 

“Okay.”

* * * * *

The aircraft lands in the middle of a patch of grass next to a cornfield.

Jack walks out, locks the ship, and walks off into the morning air. “Welcome to Bloomington, Indiana,” he says as he holds his arm out to the field. “It’s not just corn, I promise.” He looks back at the vast field. “This is just... good parking.” 

Jack jogs for about an hour before he reaches town. He hits the pavement before noon and gets lunch at his reportedly favorite place to eat during his childhood. There is nothing very notable about Bloomington to a herald of death, but the way Jack looks at things with a certain kind of light in his eyes makes this unassuming city seem very special. Whenever nobody is within hearing distance, Jack tells him bits and pieces of his history and memories with each spot they visit.

If anyone recognizes the man, the Reaper doesn't notice. Jack seems to blend in with his civilian clothing and worn-out baseball hat. The man stops at certain parts in town and takes a few moments, sometimes willing to share memories and sometimes not.

At one point, Jack stops in his tracks and walks faster to hide behind a nearby wall. 

What could it be? The cautious look on his face could suggest an enemy, but the Reaper sees nothing out of the ordinary. Someone tailing him, perhaps?

Looking to where Jack has his eyes trained, the Reaper sees a man about the same age as him. From where they stand, his hair is a graying dark brown and his skin is light and starting to crease with age. The look on his face seems as if he is having an argument, but not a serious one, considering the fact that he is still holding hands with a man that seems to be his husband. The other man doesn't seem to be in a bad mood either. His dark skin is also creased with age lines. He smiles and sighs as he argues back.

“Do you know them?” Reaper asks quietly.

Jack is broken out of his focus, as if he almost forgot his companion was there. “Oh uh.. Just the angry-looking one.”

“Who is he?” 

Jack looks to Reaper and purses his lips for a second. “Vincent. My ex.”

For some reason, that sends a wave of some unknown feeling through the Reaper. He can't name it, but it's sharp and piercing. It vibrates with a feeling of irritation. 

“Wow, I haven't seen him in years. He seems to be doing alright.” Jack smiles fondly at the couple walking out of view. He looks to Reaper. The dark being seems to be deep in thought, with arms crossed and his foot making a soundless tapping motion.

At this, Jack raises an eyebrow.

The Reaper wonders why he would ever feel like this. Sure he's gotten to know Jack better than the other mortals he had encountered, but there's no reason why he should feel negatively about a man from a past that is not his own.

“I won’t approach him, if you’re wondering. He thinks I've been dead for years,” he says, breaking Reaper's chain of thought.

The tapping stops. He slowly uncrosses his arms.

Jack looks Reaper up and down. “Lost in thought again?”

“...No.”

Jack chuckles and waves a hand. “Okay, then. Let's keep going.”

They end up stopping at a large statue in the town square. Clad in the Overwatch Strike Commander’s uniform, it stands tall with a noble stance. One hand is on the end of a pulse rifle and the other in a salute to the sky. The statue’s expression is serene but determined, as if he is dutifully watching over the people of this town. There is a plaque on the plinth that gives a summary of what Jack Morrison had done for the world during the Omnic Crisis, how he led Overwatch, and mysteriously died years later. The Reaper thinks about how closely the statue resembles the Jack that he had seen relaxing on the beach with his lover. He looks back down to the man next to him.

“It looks nothing like you.”

The man next to him chuckles. “Yeah, a few decades and a lot of close calls with death can do that to you, I guess.” He pulls out his phone and takes a picture of himself with the statue, sending it to a group chat. 

From what the Reaper sees, the angle isn’t very flattering and the sun glares in a way that washes out most of the subject matter. “For a man with good aim, you take terrible pictures.”

“What, can you do any better?” He holds the phone towards the Reaper. The front-facing camera is on, and on its cracked screen is a barely visible shadow where Reaper stands. It's so subtle, Jack wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't anticipated a presence in that spot. Seeing this makes a chill run down his spine.

“I take the souls of the dead, not vacation pictures.” 

It takes a second, but he bounces back. “C’mon, Reaper. Lighten up, will ya?” He huffs with a slight smile. “You seem pretty… _grim_.” He could feel another eye roll as he chuckles to himself. The Reaper dissolves his humanoid form into black mist and remains a seething fog of darkness.

“Just let me know when you’re actually dying.”

“Oh c’mon, it wasn’t _that_ bad!” Jack chuckles as he begins to walk away from the statue towards an old brick road. He continues walking through town, heading towards the direction he came from earlier.

They walk past a church and hear a children’s choir in practice. He slows down and gives a saddened smile. There’s definitely something heavily weighing down on his mind. Jack turns to the black cloud of mist and speaks. “I’m guessing there’s no more time to waste. One more stop before I’m done here.”

Jack looks behind him and starts jogging the way he came from. By normal human standards, he seems like he’s sprinting. The black cloud of smoke steadily follows behind. 

Jack Morrison finally stops several yards away from a farmhouse.

“Home sweet home,” he mumbles to himself. The farmhouse, or rather, what's left of it, lays in ruins. The broken structure remains in pieces undisturbed, save the unkempt plant life growing all over it. The sun is beginning to set, giving everything a golden hue. He looks at it fondly, but instead of heading towards it, he walks the other direction. The Reaper realizes that Jack is headed towards the aircraft which isn't too far away. In fact, it's just out of sight of the farmhouse, deep into the cornfield. 

“That's your house?”

“Oh, there you are.” He looks around and trains his eyes on the thin black trail of smoke following beside him. “My childhood home used to stand where that rubble is. It was used as a base for the local resistance during the Crisis. It got destroyed, rebuilt, and then destroyed again. Now it's just a relic. Someone else bought the land after I ‘died.’ Don’t know who, don’t really care. Not like I stay in any place too long, anyway.” He says as he casually walks in the light of the setting sun. It gives his silvery-white hair a bit of a golden hue, giving Reaper a glimpse of what he looked like in his youth. They can hear the bugs chirp and the leaves rustle with the occasional gust of warm wind. The two remain silent.

“This just might be my last sunset, huh? Yours too if you really get what you want.” He says with a bit of a somber tone. The man gives a little sigh and the black mist continues to follow silently.

The two stop at the clearing with the aircraft. 

“You know, I’m glad this area is still here. It brings back memories. Gabe and I would come here whenever we’d visit with the Overwatch crew and wanted some alone time from the others.” He says as he takes a seat on one of many wooden crates piled up in the clearing.

“Too much information,” the dark mist grumbles.

“N-no, not like that—” Jack holds a hand up, dismissing the thought. “I w— you know, actually…” 

“Don’t say it. I don’t need to know.” The mist briefly thickens and flows around in a haphazard way, seeming almost uncomfortable.

“My bad,” he chuckles. “It’s been so many years, I hardly remember the little things.” He rests his cheek on a hand and looks up at the sky. Jack takes in a deep breath and sighs. A pensive look is on his aged features, skin pulling on raised scar tissue. There's no doubt about what—or who he is thinking about.

“How long has he—” Reaper catches himself asking and stops. “Nevermi—”

“Been with me?” Jack directs his eyes at the cloud of dark mist, offering to finish the thought. Any trace of joy falls into a more neutral expression as he asks, “Or how long has he been dead?”

“Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s fine.” He shakes his head. “It’s been about… twenty-four years since we got married. It was right here where he proposed to me, actually.” He cracks a little smile. “Well, with the ring and all. The first _actual_ proposal was in the middle of a firefight. It sure was something, though. Back then, we were surrounded. Bastions lined up and locked on our position. The final push to freedom or death. There was no other way but to go out guns blazing. I was already saying my prayers and then he told me, ‘John Francis Morrison, if we actually make it out of this alive, you bet your sweet ass I’m marrying you,’” he says in a different tone made to sound like an impression. A soft smile melts onto his face. “Then he actually did.” For a moment, Jack sounds bright and youthful for a man with a voice so gruff and damaged.

But only for a moment.

Another moment passes as he tenderly draws a calloused finger over his golden ring. With a furrowed brow, he appears deep in thought again. “ _Gabe_ was... really something.” The way he speaks of this man really makes it seem so. So much so, that the Reaper begins to feel an echo of that same sensation from when he touched the mortal’s hand. What was that feeling?

****

**[A/N: I drew this a little over a year ago for an inktober prompt while this was still in the works, so the red glove isn't accurate.]**

The clear sky has turned a warm shade of orange as the sun continues to set in the sky. They remain silent until the Reaper speaks.

“So your middle name is Francis.”

Jack sighs. “For God’s sake, it’s a family name! You know what, give it your best shot. I’ve heard it all.” He crosses his arms and looks at the mist expectantly.

“I’m here to reap your soul, not take stabs at your name.”

“Going once.”

“No.”

“Going twice.”

“I said no.”

“Alright, then.” Jack shrugs. “Finally taking pity on a dead man?”

“No. Death doesn’t discriminate,” the Reaper simply says.

“It really doesn’t…” Jack mumbles and then grows quiet again. After a brief moment, his head perks up. “Also... do you think you’d recognize Gabe if you saw his face?”

“This again?” The Reaper crosses his arms.

“Yeah. So... could you?” The mortal insists. If the manifestation of death could feel annoyed, this would be it.

“I’ve reaped so many souls, that all mortals are the same to me. Why do you care so much about someone long gone? Shouldn't you be worrying about yourself?”

Jack is still seated on the crate. He leans back on his hands, looking up at the sky once more. “Well, I’ve got a grim reaper following me around and waiting for me to die, so there ain't much else left to worry about. I just wanna know if there's a certain someone on the other side before I go. At this point, I've got nothing to lose from tryin’ to know.” He looks to the Reaper with his piercing eyes. “C’mon, humor a dead man.” He says lightheartedly. “I can get the picture right now.” He flicks his chin in the direction of his aircraft. 

_What a stubborn human._

“There’s no need for the picture. There are other ways.” 

“What do you mean?” He seems confused but interested. 

“When you... touched my hand before, you showed me a memory... Some of it.” The mist thickens into a darker black, looking as if it is fumbling around in its designated area.

“Oh,” Jack looks interested. “What did you see…?”

“You, but younger. On a beach with... _him_.”

“Oh,” Jack looks off to the side for a second before he turns back. “I was dreaming about that. So you _do_ know what he looks like?”

“I didn’t get a good look at his face.” The Reaper doesn't want to admit how much he was focused on the younger version of Jack during that moment. The cloud of dark smoke fumbles quicker and then coalesces back into his usual shape. To human ears, he sounds as if he is making a disgruntled sigh as he gives himself a humanoid form. 

The Reaper stands in his dark robe cloaked in shadow and smoke. He is face-to-face with the mortal and slowly holds out his gloved hand. 

“Show me. Like you did before.”

Jack looks the Reaper up and down. He hops off the crate and approaches the dark being. Dark mist clears a path where he treads. Jack peers into the black eye holes of the otherworldly being’s mask with uncertainty. He doesn’t know why, but he finds himself searching for true human eyes beneath it.

Reaper had always kept his distance of at least a few feet, so it feels surreal to be seeing him so up close. He seems so tangible, as if he is a living man standing before him. There is a presence, but there is no heat from his form and the ground is undisturbed beneath his steel-armored boots. The dark mist closes behind the mortal as he advances forward. It is both frightening and entrancing to be walking towards the beckoning hand of death itself. 

Is this the true way the Reaper takes you? Perhaps the Reaper had been lulling him into a false sense of security so that he could suddenly spirit him away. Is this really the weary grim reaper he had grown to know, or something else using lies to get what it wants?

Is this how it will end for Jack Morrison?

But there is no time for what-ifs, so he reaches out.

Their hands touch.

A bolt of energy surges through them.

* * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic was inspired by a lot of things and you'll find out what as we go along!  
> Here's one of them:  
> [Heaven Knows by Five For Fighting](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=idN7I7qEt6E)


	5. You Went Away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of injury, needles, and death.

A young soldier sets his eyes on another pair of dark brown eyes. His own deep blue eyes have an untamed sense of innocence and strength like an ocean wave. Water meets jagged cliffs, but only for a painfully short moment like the crash of a tide. His mind wanders and his heart races.

“Morrison!” A smooth, earthy voice barks, breaking the spell. “Did you hear me, or do you still have corn in your ears, farm boy?”

“A-apologies, sir!” The young man straightens up his posture as he stammers. 

“Stay sharp. We can't have you become calibration practice for the omnic weapon systems just cuz you were in La-la land.” His face is close, their eyes meet again, but closer this time.

“Yes sir, sorry, sir!” He seems nervous, but not from intimidation.

* * * * *

The ocean reaches for the cliffs whenever it can, craving anything small like a simple gaze. Only seeing him in passing, only speaking to him when needed. It's not enough. He wishes to know him. He wishes for more.

* * * * *

“Hey. Long time no see, farm boy. Indiana, right? The uh, Bloomington recruitment center, I think.” 

“Yes, sir.” An embarrassed look flashes in his eyes. 

“Well, congrats on making it to the Soldier Enhancement Program. I'm Gabriel Reyes and I'll be your assigned partner. I've been here for a while, so I'll be showing you the ropes n’ all that jazz. That means you answer to me right after the Colonel.” They shake hands and he continues. “We'll be living in the same quarters as well. This way, boy scout.” The man flicks his bearded chin in the direction they're headed and Jack follows obediently.

Reyes. _.._

_Gabriel_ Reyes _._

The name of an archangel. Meaning strength and devotion. The name is simple, but holds a quality of elegance and power. Jack whispers the name to himself when he is alone. He tries it with his own and his cheeks warm up like a summer evening. The mere thought of the man’s name makes him smile. 

This is a name that will never not be special to him.

* * * * *

“I see you're still alive, farm boy.” Reyes speaks in a low voice as he kneels next to the bleeding soldier. Morrison is sitting down, resting his back on a concrete building wall. He changes his gaze from the night sky back down to the earth and to the man beside him. They are both in their nightclothes, haphazardly tied military boots, and armed with their weapons. Light skin is peppered with bruises, his clothes are dirty, and there is a line of blood dripping down his forehead to his eyes. “You got a death wish or something, Morrison? Enhancements don't kick in as soon as you think. One bullet in the wrong spot and you're still toast, y’know.”

“Someone had to risk their ass to get the emergency generator going, sir. Those omnics probably have night vision and I ain't tryin’ to fight an ambush in the dar—ow!”

“Shh, keep it down. And hold still, idiot.” His partner wipes the blood off his face with a piece of cloth before it gets into his eye. They are both surprised at the sudden gesture. Reyes looks away and almost stammers as he begins his sentence. “I uh, appreciate that you leveled the field for us, but _no more_ risks like that. You might not be so lucky next time.” He looks back to Morrison with his brow furrowed. “Also, you look like a fuckin’ horror movie, man.” His expression loosens and he almost chuckles. Jack seems comforted by this.

“They're just flesh wounds. I think I've learned how to stay sharp enough to keep out of La-la land after all this time, sir.” Morrison winks, causing Reyes to purse his lips and glance off to the side. “Also, where are the others?”

“I told them to go ahead and meet us at the rendezvous point.”

Morrison's brows furrow as he thinks for a second. “You came back and waited all that time for me?” He looks at the bloodied piece of cloth and up at Reyes. A little smile plays at his lips as the other man scowls.

“The less people recklessly sticking their necks out, the better. Also, don't let it get to your head, boy scout. You may be my partner, but I don't get attached. I'm only doing my job. ...Though I oughta charge you a cleaning fee while I'm at it.” Reyes teases as he holds up the bloodied piece of cloth. 

“Well, then thanks for the save, Reyes.” He pauses for a second. Upon further examination, it’s a torn piece of clothing. 

“Yeah, don't mention it.”

With a quick glance, Morrison realizes _whose_ clothing it is from. He looks up from Reyes’ torn tank top and smiles smugly. 

“You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you really cared about me, partner.” Reyes’ brow furrows as he glares at him and then looks away. Silence. Perhaps it's a trick of the light, but the man seems flustered. “So do you take cash or credit? Or something from the commissary?” He teases with a smile. “Dinner, maybe?” 

A look of surprise flashes on Reyes’ face and he turns away, either distracting himself or looking out for the enemy. The man takes a deep breath and takes the bloody cloth back. “Yeah, you're still an annoying prick, Morrison. Again, _don't_ let it get to your head.” In the dim lighting, he could almost make out flushed cheeks. Or was he just imagining it?

The bloody piece of cloth is slapped on Morrison's face.

“Hey!” He hoarsely whispers.

Reyes chuckles until he suddenly goes silent and raises a hand. “Enemy at 3.”

* * * * *

Moments flicker by. Jack is drawn to the man like a moth to a flame. It seems fruitless, but he continues. For what is a wave of water to the might of a cliff? A new recruit to a seasoned soldier?

Still, the ocean would search and send its deep blue waves upon the jagged cliffs. For how could he resist the allure of such strength and beauty? Isn't the ocean meant to reach for and entwine itself with the earth? 

* * * * *

“You again?” A smooth voice asks, dripping with sarcasm. Morrison looks up from his magazine and a smile is on his face when he sees Reyes standing before him in the tiled room. They both have a tube hooked up to their arms. Reyes pulls up with his IV pole and plops himself on the couch next to him.

“Unfortunately for you.” Jack slightly turns towards him. “If we're gonna be honest, I'm just here for the reading selection. It's pretty compelling. In fact, I can't get enough of this _Better Homes and Gardens_ magazine.” He indicates the magazine in his hands that looks roughed around from being in many other different hands. “It's about a year old, but it's newer than the ones in the rec room at basic.”

“Oh yeah?” Reyes leans in closer to examine the two-page spread of a verdant Japanese garden complete with a pond containing omnic koi fish. Morrison seems pleasantly surprised at their proximity. “You know, they say that what a person chooses to read tells a lot about them.”

“Yeah? Then what do you think _Better Homes and Gardens_ says about me?” 

Reyes looks up from the magazine with a grin. “That you're just like a garden: full of shit.”

Morrison gives him a look of amusement and chuckles with him. “A little harsh, Reyes.”

Reyes leans back on the couch with his arms planted behind on the back cushion. “How come you keep coming back here? What number are you again?”

“Seventy-six, sir.”

“You know, my number is twenty-four and there are about… twenty of us left. Last week, there were thirty. Last week, a guy died and a lady went blind.”

Morrison whistles and looks up from his magazine. “Yikes. I heard about that. Christiano left the program the other day, right? She was pretty nice. It's a shame to see her g— you know what I mean...” He cringes at his unintended pun and continues reading.

“You know you can opt out of this super soldier program, right? Do you actually have some kind of death wish, or are you really just that stubborn?”

Morrison raises an eyebrow and puts his magazine down. He starts examining himself, even checking his vitals. “Hm, nothing wrong here.” He looks up. “Must be lucky, I guess. Plus, I feel like I'm past the point of no return. I worked hard to get into SEP. I could at least see it through.” Morrison looks Reyes in the eye. “Is this you worrying about me?” He tries to hide a smug expression. “Cuz you don't have to.”

“...No. I don't _worry_ about people.” Reyes looks off to the side, arms crossed, almost seething with some kind of conflicted emotion. He recovers quickly, but not quickly enough to miss Morrison's notice.

“I know what I signed up for and I ain't planning to back down. Especially if it'll help save innocent people. You don't have to worry about me, Reyes. Besides,” he shifts to face him, “who else is gonna keep you up with his snoring? Or help you with your crossword puzzles? You're almost done with the book, if I remember correctly.” Morrison indicates a small, beat-up bright pink book wedged between the indifferent, gray couch cushions.

“I'm not worried,” Reyes grumbles. “Just don't blame me if you start sprouting horns or turn into some kind of undead zombie.” 

“You'll be the first to know, sir.” He reaches over and pulls the book out from the cushions, opening it to a half-finished page. “There ya go,” he says as he hands it over.

Reyes takes the book in his lap, but takes a second to glare at his companion. Morrison raises his brows and nods at the book encouragingly. There's a bit of a staring contest until Reyes relents with a sigh. “Fine.” He takes a few moments as he takes the pencil wedged in his saved spot and looks over the page. “Number 16 across. 5 letters. ‘A romantic feeling for... someone unattainable.’ Second letter is ‘R.’” Reyes’ voice trails off as he squints at the paper. It looks like there is something on his mind. 

By the look on his face, Morrison figures it out almost immediately. “Uh…” He seems a bit flustered as he has some kind of internal conflict about giving away the answer. 

Or perhaps that isn't it, for his eyes begin to lose focus. His breathing quickens and there's a look of confusion on his heated face. “...crsh…” He utters softly.

“What was that?” Reyes asks as he looks up from the book. “Oh _shit_ ,” his innocent expression of curiosity twists into panic as his companion blacks out. “Morrison?!”

…

The next thing seen is Jack is awaking in a hospital bed. The heart monitor beeps steadily as he takes in his surroundings. There is another IV on his arm again, but this time it seems like a regular hospital-grade IV. Taking a moment to grasp the situation, he looks at his hands. He's much paler than usual. There are no windows in the room, only the harsh glare of fluorescent lights. He looks around confused until he finds the one thing he is certain of:

Reyes. 

And he's sitting there working on his little pink book. A look of forced concentration is on his face as he glares at the pages with one leg bouncing up and down impatiently. His whole being screams _‘tired’_ and the dark circles beneath his eyes are deeper than usual. It looks like he's been keeping Jack company for a while. It's easy to tell, for Reyes sits in a plush gray armchair most certainly tugged from one of the waiting rooms. There are some crumpled up pieces of paper surrounding him, no doubt from the little pink book.

Jack remains silent. He watches Reyes make faces into the tiny pink book and gives the fondest smile. 

“Hey,” Morrison dryly croaks. He catches the attention of Reyes, whose head darts up with an almost frantic look. 

“Mor—”

“Your 16 across was ‘crush.’” Jack pauses to reorient himself. “...Also, did I grow horns yet?”

The worry laced in deep brown eyes vanishes for only a moment as Reyes scoffs and shakes his head. “No, asshole, no horns yet. But I’ll send a request for the next batch of genetic modification injections if you ask nicely.” He crosses his arms. “Also, I got 16 across a while back, actually.” He pauses with a wrinkled brow, as if he just realized something about what he had said and is internally cursing to himself. “Anyway, how are you feeling, Morrison? Feelin’ like a real SEP super soldier?” The man pours some water in a paper cup and hands it to him.

Jack turns his face to the ceiling with a sarcastic grin after practically inhaling the water. “Yup. Now I’m a real GMO like the corn from back home, I guess. Really uh, connecting with my roots.” He lets out an exhausted chuckle.

Reyes almost snorts. “You really never got the corn out of your ears, did you, farm boy?” He grins and shakes his head. “Either way, good to have you back.”

“Thanks. I guess I still do have some corn left in there,” he huffs and takes a moment to think. “So... what happened to me? How long have I been out?”

Reyes’s grin vanishes in an instant. He takes a second to think. “About three days—”

“Wait, what?! _Days?!_ ”

“Yeah, you were in and out of consciousness. Turns out they gave you the wrong dosage and it almost did you in. ‘Fifty’ and ‘fifteen’ milliliters sound pretty similar, apparently. You flatlined a couple times and were delirious for the first 24 hours of being stabilized.”

“Holy shit, am I... dying?”

“Nah, not yet. They fixed you up, so if you’re okay now, you’re golden.”

“Oh. Good to hear.” His brows furrow in contemplation. “Were you the one who caught me?”

“Affirmative, Golden Boy.”

“Thanks for the save, then.” He cracks a tired smile with his chapped lips. “Also, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough to know you're a talker when you’re drugged. I have to admit, you say some... _insightful_ things, Morrison.”

“Oh...” Morrison grows cold, afraid of what he might have said. “I uh… I'm sorry if any of it was—”

“Naah, no need to be embarrassed. It happens.” He waves a hand casually dismissing the idea.

Jack almost sighs in relief, but is interrupted with an “Although…” Reyes leans back in his seat.

“Wh-what?”

“My favorite part was when you woke up in a stupor. I asked you if you needed anything. You pointed at me and said you needed me to _crush your face_ between my thighs and then went _right_ back to sleep.” Reyes takes a moment to laugh at Morrison's mortified expression. “I'm keeping _that_ for the brain bank too.” He says as he taps a finger on his head.

“Reyes, I—”

He holds up a hand to stop him from speaking. “It's fine. Really. It was only between you and me.” Any trace of mirth falls from his eyes and he shifts in his seat. “Like what I'm about to ask you.” 

Jack freezes like a deer in the headlights. Probably preparing for his life to end.

Reyes looks contemplative for a moment, as if he's making a big decision. Morrison swallows nervously as the man glances at the closed door and sits forward. “You _like_ me, don't you?”

From the flush on Jack’s face, they both knew what he meant. Blue eyes dart around nervously, as if his entire fate is at the mercy of this force of nature shaped like a man. “I won't make it a problem, sir. I can request a transfer if it really bothers you, I won't―” 

“Jack,” he stops him again. Notably with his name, this time. “It was a simple question. What we’ve got going on,” he indicates between them with a pointed finger, “wasn't just friendly banter, was it? Were you actually flirting with me this whole time?” Brown eyes pin him down with an appraising stare. The heart monitor beeps faster.

“A-at first, I wasn’t serious, but I… kind of eventually…” He sighs. “...Yes.” Jack admits while looking him in the eyes. “I'm sorry. I understand that it's inappropriate and against protocol. I’m not trying to cause any problems. I'll make sure―” His rambling keeps him from seeing Reyes stand up from his seat to tilt Jack’s chin towards himself.

“...Reyes?” He asks in a tiny voice.

He plants a kiss on Jack's lips.

“You talk a lot for a guy who just came out of a medically-induced coma, you know that?” Reyes whispers on his lips. “I'm gonna kiss you again. Is that okay?”

Morrison is stunned, but not enough to squeeze Reyes’ hand and kiss him back, leaning into it this time. “Yeah―Y―yes, of course!” ‘ _Please,_ ’ his bleary eyes seem to say.

Reyes is pleasantly taken by surprise. A smile is on his face as he huffs. “It's been quiet without you, ya know. Don't scare me like that again.” He looks at Jack's lips as he speaks. “Now let me make sure that was real,” he says before they kiss again. He backs up to look Morrison in the eyes. “Also uh, you can call me Gabe.” 

“Oh. Okay.” The dopey look on Jack’s face makes it hard for him to hold back a smile.

“Again, only between us,” he indicates both of them. “I'll see you in our room when you're back and we'll talk, okay?” Reyes—no, _Gabe_ says warmly. He checks his watch and looks around. “Now that that's settled, I'll tell the staff that you're up. Duty calls. Stay sharp till then, okay?” He winks and walks away quickly.

“Y-yeah…”

* * * * *

Time passes, however, not so smoothly. After all, they're in the middle of a war, not knowing which day may be their last. Not to mention, having a “friendship” with your commanding officer is never smooth. Their relationship had certainly changed since then, but a lot seems to remain unspoken. One couldn't expect any more than that, especially during such a deadly war.

* * * * *

“Hey, Golden Boy. You're all over the news again, you know? ” Gabriel walks in with crutches supporting his right side. An injury on his shin is wrapped tightly in bandages. “Sawada and the others are watching our handiwork in the lounge if you wanted to― woah.” He stops in his tracks. “Jack? What happened? No offense, but you look like hell.”

Jack is slumped on the floor with his back to the seat of the couch. Documents are scattered on the tile before him. He turns around and his eyes are swollen from crying. “Oh hey. Welcome back, Gabe,” he says, seemingly drained of energy. “Glad to see you were finally discharged. How's your leg?” He asks, failing miserably to hide his mood.

“Healing okay. Faster than usual with the enhancements.” Gabriel quickens his pace to the couch to see the scattered papers. “More importantly, what's going on, Jack?”

It takes him a few seconds to respond. “They're gone…” Jack whispers, as if it were too painful to say aloud.

Gabriel's expression falls as Jack holds up a will. He reads two familiar names. “Wait, no way. Your parents?!”

“Omnics passed through Bloomington while we were in Detroit. My parents sheltered whoever they could. But it wasn't enough.” He speaks painfully. “Got these documents this morning. I'm… the only living relative now.” His voice is so fragile, Gabriel’s heart seems to be breaking at the sound of it.

“Christ, Jack…” Gabriel balances the crutches against the couch and steadily moves to sit on the floor with him. “Jack, I'm so sorry…” 

“We were so close, Gabe. _Five_ hours away. I could've saved them if I only knew...” Jack trails off into a bout of silence. “I could've saved them…” he seems all cried out already, but he weeps. A hand catches his free hand and squeezes it tightly. Gabriel pulls in to hug him as they sit on the floor.

“Hey now, it's not your fault. There's no way we could've known. Hell, we were five hours away trying to take back a city. And keeping me and the rest of Detroit alive,” he indicates his leg. “I'm sure they would've been proud of you for that.”

“You can't be proud when you're _dead_. My whole family is gone and it's my fault! I don't have anyone anymore―Oh God…” He breaks out into sobs. Gabriel takes him into his arms again and Jack rests his forehead in the crook of his neck. Moments pass as Gabriel holds him tightly and sheds tears with him.

It takes some time, but Gabriel peels the young man away from himself. “Jack. Again, it's not your fault. It's a shitty part of this job, but you can't save everyone. Even if it's people you care about. And you can't shoulder all the blame like this, especially when it's something we can't undo.” Gabriel sighs and squeezes his hand comfortingly. “You of all people know that I understand what it's like.”

A moment passes between them before Gabriel speaks again.

“Do you really think you're alone in the world now, Jack? I'm still here, you know.”

“...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to phrase it like that, I just…” He pulls himself away and stares down at his own hands. “I like what we have between us, but a ‘let's see where it goes from here’ with my superior isn't exactly the most stable thing to hang on to, y’know.” He sighs. “And I really like you, I just don't know if this is just a really long fling or―”

“Jack.” He interrupts. “We've been together for eleven months and twenty-four days. I think we're pretty far from fling territory.” 

Jack looks up to see a sincere expression on Gabriel's face.

“When I said ‘let's see where this goes,’ I meant I was in this for as long as you'd let us take it. Sorry if I wasn't clear about that.”

Jack huffs. “No offense, but you do _not_ have a way with words, Gabe.”

“Yeah… Words aren't really my strong suit, I'll work on that,” he shrugs. “But I need you to know that you're not alone, Jack. We're still here. _I'm_ here and I'm not going anywhere. Not without you, at least. So please don't try to carry everything alone, okay? You'll get through it, and I'll be right there with you.” He takes Jack's hand from his lap and brings it to his lips for a kiss.

Jack's expression softens at Gabriel's smile. “Thank you, Gabe.”

* * * * *

More moments flicker by again. From what little they see, the coming years aren't easy, but it isn’t always rough.

* * * * *

“I see you two finally made up.”

“Ana, it’s not what it looks like!!!” Jack pulls away from Gabriel and stands in front of him, fruitlessly putting an arm in front of him out of instinct. The woman in blue uniform stands with arms crossed and an unamused expression. A familiar tattoo is below her left eye.

“Oh, really? Then enlighten me, Jack. What else could you be doing with the commander of Overwatch backed into a wall when we have a meeting in…” she checks her watch, “eight minutes?” Her arms remain crossed.

“...Having a pre-meeting meeting.” He says flatly, but his expression betrays his tone. His brow twitches and he turns to look at the man behind him. “Gabe? _Get_ your hand off my ass,” Jack sharply whispers through gritted teeth. “You’re not helping ―” He jumps a little and his eyes widen incredulously. Without looking back, he grabs Gabriel’s wrist from behind himself and swiftly slaps the other man’s hand away. “ _Gabe_ ―”

Gabriel snorts. “I mean... technically, he’s not wrong...” He gently moves Jack aside and stands face-to-face with Ana. “But okay, you got us. It’s exactly what it looks like.” He says as he graciously flashes his hands up. 

“How’d you know where we were?” Jack asks her from behind, still winded from surprise.

“It wasn’t hard. I just had to follow the sound of bickering down the hall.” A hand is on her hip as she indicates the direction she came from with a nod. “Also, Jack, dear…” Jack flinches. “You need to work on lying out of your ass if you want to even _try_ challenging my bullshit radar.” Her hands remain on her hips, but she doesn’t seem upset.

Jack seems both relieved and offended at her reaction.

Gabriel sharply inhales through his teeth. “Yeaah, my bad. I’ll try to schedule a proper pre-meeting meeting room next time.” He shrugs with a charming smile and the other two roll their eyes. “By the way, how long have you known we were…”

“Fighting or together?” She asks flatly. “Reinhardt and the others are still oblivious, but I’ve known about you two for ages.” She speaks with an indifferent air, yet Jack and Gabriel look at each other apprehensively. “Relationships like this were encouraged in ancient Greece. Said it improved morale and bravery. And after all this time, I can see why they said so.” She indicates the two of them. The blush on Jack’s ears and cheeks is brighter and clearer to see than Gabriel’s. “I just haven’t said anything because neither of you have made it a problem yet.”

“Oh.”

“But you are right now. So wrap it up, you two. I have a call with my daughter after this, and I won’t waste a minute longer on the meeting because of whatever fight you were having for the past week.” Despite how snippy her words are, Ana doesn't seem to be in a bad mood. She turns around and her long, black hair whips behind her as she turns the corner. “I expect to be done with the meeting by three,” she calls out from a distance.

The two stand there, dumbfounded. After a moment, they look to each other as if they're trying to confirm what just happened. The two sigh in relief, then break down laughing.

* * * * *

“Jack, why do you like me so much?” Gabriel asks with a glazed look masking his eyes. “Did I somehow trick you? Do you have a screw loose or something?” He stares down at the cast on his left arm. Jack is sitting on the left of his bedside with bandages over his throat and a bruised face. His shoulder is wrapped up. In fact, they both look quite roughed up. Gabriel's voice becomes smaller and he seems a bit more frightened. “I'm not coercing you because of our ranks, am I? You know you can get out of _this_ whenever you want.”

“No… What makes you say that?” Jack's once smooth voice is a hoarse, painful-sounding whisper. He seems puzzled at what the other man is saying.

“Don't go all saintly Golden Boy Scout on me now. Shouldn't you be mad at me, Jack? You know what I did. This isn't even the first time.” Gabriel seems almost annoyed at how calm he is. “And now you sound like a garbage disposal every time you open your mouth. Just say your piece and leave.” His words are spoken sharply.

Jack puts a hand to the bandages on his throat and looks down pensively. “If you really don't want me here, then I'll go. But Gabe, you're not the one who did this to me.”

“I might as well have.” He tries to raise both hands in exasperation, but winces in pain. “I know I make questionable calls. But that omnic had you by the throat. If I'd waited a second longer, you would've been dead… And all those people would've still been alive.”

“I get it.”

“Do you, though? I already told you what I did before all this. Even before SEP. I'm _not_ a good person, Jack. I've done some really fucked up things. This isn't my first time with civilian blood on my hands and it won't be the last. I know I should've saved them instead, but I'm not sacrificing you for anything or anyone.”

Jack sighs. “You should have. And yes, I was upset for the first couple of days. But not at you this time. These situations, they keep happening where it's either our lives or the mission. I know we've fought about your calls, but I understand it better now.” Jack looks up from his cast to Gabriel's eyes. “I thought the Omnic Crisis would be so simple. Just take down some genocidal robots and try not to die in the process. I never thought it'd be that ethical trolley problem over and over again in different masks.” 

“Well, you know what my answer will always be.” Gabriel says without hesitation as he looks straight at it.

Jack smiles at him softly, then down to his lap. “At that moment, I thought I was done for. I also realized something. I didn't think about saving those people. I didn't think about what everyone else would say. The only thing I could think of was _you_. And how much I didn't wanna leave you. So... I guess you know my answer as well.” Jack muses and looks back up into Gabriel's eyes. “I know it's kind of fucked up, but... I don't feel all that wrong about it.”

Gabriel exhales and frowns. “I'm corrupting you, aren't I?” He speaks to his folded hands. “God, I really am a monst―”

“Woah woah, hold on, Gabe. It's not like that.” Jack interrupts. He places a hand on the bed, looking him in the eyes. “I will _never_ forget those people we tried to save. They're probably gonna be in my nightmares for a very long time. That's _our_ burden to bear, though.” He scrunches part of the sheet in his hand with a disheartened look in his blue eyes before he looks up at Gabe. “But we can't make it up to them if we're not around to save everyone else we can, y’know? It's not like there are any SEP soldiers left besides us to pick up the slack. We're all Overwatch has. Just you and me, Gabe.”

Gabriel's expression softens.

“I just want you to know that I'm _with you_ , okay?” He pauses to place a hand on his still healing throat, then continues again. “Not everyone can make the tough calls you do and I respect that. And it ain't just cuz you favor keeping me alive. It's way more than that.” Two of his fingers hook onto Gabriel’s hand tightly. “You're my partner, Gabe. In and out of duty. You promised you'd be there for me, so let me promise the same to you.”

Gabriel’s expression melts into a smile. 

“It’s been years and I realize that we've said it in so many ways, but I don't think we've actually said it.” Jack slips his fingers between Gabriel’s till they’re holding hands. “We’re a little overdue, but… I love you, Gabe. We're partners, so I'll be with you too, no matter what.”

Gabriel’s brow crinkles and he purses his lips. A hand makes its way to cover his eyes as he begins to weep.

“Oh shit, wait. Are you okay?” Jack is startled by his partner’s crying and he gets up, hand still holding on, so he clumsily pulls it up along with him. “Gabe?!” 

“Ow, watch the cast,” he brokenly hisses. 

“Shit, sorry!” He says as he lets go.

“Dammit, Jack.” He says in between what could either be sobbing or laughter, “Also, I―I love you too.” He reaches over with his uninjured arm and gently pulls him in. 

“Ow, ow, watch the shoulder,” Jack smiles as he adjusts himself to lean in to kiss his partner on the forehead and wipe his tears.

“How dare you make me cry like this,” he sniffles. He curses under his breath in Spanish as the tears roll down his eyes. “Don’t you dare tell anyone about this, okay?” He says with misty eyes and a scrunched face. “Especially not Ana.”

“I know, I know.” Jack smiles, seemingly almost on the verge of tears as well. “I’ll say it as many times as you want, Gabe.” The love in his eyes is enough to warm the dead.

“God, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you, Jackie.” He sighs. 

“Well, once you’re healed,” Jack looks him up and down, “I know what I want you to do _to_ me.” He gives him a shit-eating grin and Gabriel’s face flushes. 

“Ah, you bastard,” Gabriel groans with a smile, seemingly had. They look at each other and start to laugh.

* * * * *

And as certainly as time passes, all things must come to an end. Months end. Years come to an end. In time, even war comes to an end.

And as surely as ocean waves meet the shore, the two finally meet each other halfway. With their differences, the land and sea are soon enough recognized as equals in strength and beauty.

* * * * *

The bright orange sky is still as two men make their way through the ears of corn. They run wild like the wind, two forces of nature in their own right. The sound of banter, laughter, and the rustling of leaves fills the air. 

The two lovers have changed a lot since the last vision. They have even more scars and look a bit rougher around the edges, but they’re bursting with joy and life inside their souls. Whatever they had been through was nowhere near enough to kill the light in their eyes.

“I thought we’d _never_ get away! Who knew Ana could drink Reinhardt under the table like that?” Jack says as they slow down into the same clearing he's currently in with the Reaper. It’s a bit wider and there are more miscellaneous things like old furniture and wooden crates scattered around.

“That lady is a force of nature, I’ll tell you that. She probably already noticed I’ve stolen away the birthday boy.” Gabriel shrugs fondly. “By the way, thanks for putting us up in your house for the weekend. It can’t be easy with your uh… folks gone and all.” His smile softens as they walk further into the clearing.

A sad smile flashes on Jack’s face. “No worries. It’s been years already. I can’t think of a better place to be away from the public eye. It ain’t much use just sitting there collecting dust, so I’m glad it can still house my new family for at least a little a bit.” He seems happier as he looks at Gabriel. “That’s if they can keep it in once piece while we’re gone.”

“They can save the world, I’m sure they can keep your house together for a bit.” Gabe smiles as he sits with Jack on the hood of an old, run-down car. “Whenever we get the chance, we should fly to LA. Make a week of it like we’re doing here. I can show you where I grew up. I’ll even tour you around the city, maybe take you to Disneyland if it’s still standing.”

“I’d love that,” Jack smiles. His eyes are beautiful in the sunset. “I just hope that there’ll still be plenty of moments like this after all the international post-war stuff blows over. It’s the little things like family gatherings and parties that make all of this fighting worth it to me, y’know? Even after all the pain and loss, we still find reasons to come together and celebrate, and I think that’s beautiful.”

“Yeah. ” The two are leaning back on the car, looking up at the endless sky. There's a bit of an anticipative silence before Gabriel begins to speak tentatively. “Hey Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I level with you for a second?” Jack looks over to see Gabriel gripping his forearm.

“Yeah. Of course, Gabe. What’s on your mind?” He asks, blue eyes washing over him with concern.

“I honestly didn’t even entertain the possibility of making it out of this war. Hell, I had no idea we’d end up on an international task force. But here we are.” He shrugs. “I always imagined myself going down under heavy fire in the middle of some big city and ending up just another number on the news. Maybe even a forgotten name on some fancy rock. But ever since you came along from the middle of nowhere...” he indicates the unkempt plant life around them. “Literally..”

“Hey!” Jack squints indignantly and playfully elbows the other man, but pauses for a second. “Okay... you’re not wrong,” he chuckles.

“Yeah, this is butt fuckin’ nowhere and nothing can change my mind about that.” He points at the ground. “Anyway, if you hadn’t kept following me like a damned puppy and being so damn friendly, I don’t think I’d have ever learned to lighten up. I'll admit I may have been a bit of a hardass back then—”

“Only ‘a _bit_?’” Jack teases.

Gabriel crosses his arms. “...Okay, _was_ . I was _more_ of a hardass. Sue me, Morrison.” He rolls his eyes. The two laugh and his hands are down on his lap. “No but really, you and that sunshine attitude of yours really gave me hope, y’know? You actually got me to start thinking about a future, and making me want more than to just survive...” 

“Gabe…” His expression softens. He reaches out, but stops when Gabriel speaks again.

“I know the war just ended and you’re gonna be promoted to Strike Commander, but just let me be selfish for a sec and pile one more thing on your plate.” Gabriel stands and reaches for something in one of his pockets. Jack sits up to see what he’s doing with a bemused and curious expression. His lover's brown eyes are warm and intense as he kneels before Jack with a tiny box containing a ring.

Jack’s jaw drops open. For a moment, he can’t find any words. “Gabe,” is all he could finally muster. The way Jack says his name sounds like a question, asking if this is really happening.

“I’ve thought a lot about what I wanted after the war and I couldn’t really think of much else. My family’s gone along with most of Los Angeles and the only answer I could really come up with is…” His words are rushed till he pauses and looks up from the ring at Jack. “You.” He seems thoughtful for a moment. “I guess you’ll always be my answer, Jack.”

The other man is silent as he takes in what Gabriel just said. The only sound they can hear is the wind and the bugs chirping in the cornfield. 

“...Is that answer good enough for you?”

“Jack, of course it is!” He looks almost incredulous. “ _Fuck_ yeah it is! I’d follow you straight into Hell if you let me, Jack Morrison.”

It takes a moment before he speaks. A soft smile is on his face. “So you really meant it back then? In San Francisco where you said…”

“If we got out of it alive, that you bet your sweet ass I was gonna marry you?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, we got out of that, didn’t we? I'd say it's about time for the next phase in the plan.” A grin is on his face. “I figured you'd want a ring and a real proposal. I tried thinking of a speech, but uh...” He shrugs a bit shyly. “That’s more your thing, Golden Boy.”

“You're not wrong about any of that,” Jack chuckles in response.

“So I’ll tell you what I _do_ know. Now c’mon, soldier. At ease, front and center.” Gabe indicates by pointing with his chin.

Jack lets out a bemused laugh and complies. “Yes sir,” he says playfully. He stands in front of Gabe, who is still kneeling with the ring box in hand.

Gabriel takes a second to think. “Jack _Francis_ Morrison…” He puts extra emphasis on his middle name with a mischievous smile.

“Hey, that’s a family name. Let it go!” He leans over to ruffle his dark hair.

“You’re interrupting your proposal part two!” He puts a hand to his cheek as an aside and loudly whispers. “Shh!”

“Sorry,” Jack rolls his eyes as he fixes Gabe’s hair. “Okay, continue.”

“Anyway,” his voice is back to normal. “I really meant what I said back then, and I’m hoping you did too when you accepted… Granted it was also under a shitstorm of bullets from killer robots and explosions. And we almost died a few times, so there's probably room for _some_ confusion.”

Jack lets out a little laugh and he nods in agreement.

“But I'm gonna clear that up right now.” Gabriel takes a deep breath, then locks eyes with Jack. “Even without all the sexy and lovey dovey shit we do, you’re still my best friend. I can't see myself with anyone else but you, almost like a matching set... Salt and pepper, hot cheetos and cream cheese…” He fumbles his words a bit before he continues. “And I love you, Jack. More than I’ve loved anyone, really.” He thinks for a second, “Okay well, that’s not saying much, since I’ve only genuinely liked about... six people in this world...”

“Six? That’s a pretty generous number for you,” he teases. 

“Dammit, Jack.” He laughs. “But I really do love you. I love you so much, I wanna kick you in the nuts sometimes, but uh… in a kinky, loving kind of way.” He winks and Jack rolls his eyes. “And after all this hell we've been through together, you're still here. _We're_ still here. You’ve been by my side through SEP, the Omnic Crapsis and now this Overwatch stuff, and I want you by my side for the rest of it... And beyond, if you’re into that.” He shrugs. “So, Jack F. Morrison, for real this time, will you marry me?”

Jack is smiling from ear to ear, tears streaming down his face. “Gabe,” is all he could say with insurmountable joy and exasperation in his tone. His lover's name is now a spoken expression of love in itself. 

“S-so I'm taking that as a solid yes.” Gabe finally manages to say coherently. Tears stream down his face as well. Blue eyes gaze with a warmth that transfers to a blush on dark copper cheeks. Jack pulls him up so that they stand together as equals. 

“C’mere, Gabe. You bet your sweet ass I wanna marry you!” He says through tears and a smile so wide, his face begins to ache. They laugh as they clumsily slip the rings on each other's fingers. The earth and ocean collide once more in a passionate kiss like the roll of waves on a shore.

“God, Jack, I don't know what the hell I'm gonna do with you,” he softly speaks into his ear like an intimate prayer as they hold each other close. Gabe begins to plant kisses on the side of Jack's face and neck. Jack begins to squirm and elicit tiny bursts of laughter from the tickle of Gabe's lips and facial hair.

“Well, you can start planning the wedding with me.” Jack offers happily, gently pushing him away to look him in the eyes once more. “I love you too, Gabe. I love you so much, I wanna kick you back. In the nuts!” He talks in between giggles. “I really don't have a clue what I'd do without you.” He runs his fingers through dark, wavy hair and his hands make their way to the back of his head. Jack takes this opportunity to bring his fiancé in for a kiss.

Their joy is so bright, that they radiate a warmth that even the Reaper begins to feel.

The jagged cliffs that Jack had reached for with such earnesty have, over time, turned into the welcoming shores where they meet and touch with reckless abandon.

* * * * *

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's the Trolley Problem illustrated by The Good Place](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWb_svTrcOg)  
> I imagine the situations during the omnic crisis were that level of stressful, but less funny. Less ugly cowboy boots too.
> 
> Also, here's another song that inspired/goes with this chapter:  
> [If We Were Vampires by Jason Isbell and the 400 Unit](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ivYkyC8J29M)
> 
> More flashbacks next chapter!


	6. ...And My Heart Went with You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1.) This was originally going to be part of the previous chapter, but I decided NAH (Also, that would've been ~54 pages of chapter. Hoo buddy!)
> 
> 2.) Anyway, hop on the R76 bus, babes. We're going on a feels trip.
> 
> 3.) Full art/comic is in the next chapter because my Too Much Gene kicked in
> 
> Trigger Warning: Mentions of injury and death

“And ‘til death do us part.” 

Gabriel says, holding Jack’s hands at an altar. He wears a fitted suit the color of ash and smoke. He's beaming with happiness. It’s a small, intimate wedding and they are surrounded by their closest friends and family. They all sit there with the look of “finally” in their eyes, especially a certain woman with the eye of horus tattooed on her face. “Honestly, if I die before you, I’ll probably just haunt your ass.” The crowd laughs along with the couple. 

“You wanna bet?” Jack challenges. He stands there in his suit that is blue like the depths of the ocean. He stands proudly, looking stunning and beaming bright like the sun.

The vows continue and they exchange wedding rings. With a signal from the omnic priest, the two go in for a kiss. Gabe, however, takes Jack behind his waist then leans him back, kissing him in a dip and everyone cheers. A particularly large man with a scar on his left eye is crying loudly with tears of joy.

“ _Gabe_ ,” Jack speaks his name with a winded kind of wonder. The way he says it tells anyone who hears that Gabe is _his_ , that this man is nothing less than his moon and stars.

“It's officially you and me against the world now. _Te amo_ , Jack.” Gabe responds as he lifts his new husband back to stand safely. Despite the presence of the crowd, he speaks so tenderly, as if they are the only two in the world. The look in his eyes would tell anyone that this man before him belongs to him, and him alone. That _his_ Jack is nothing less than his sun and stars.

Nearby is a young girl in a white dress, no older than thirteen. She reaches for some alcohol at one of the decorated tables, looking back and forth towards a woman who appears to be her mother. He recognizes the Eye of Horus tattoo on the woman's face again. She is too focused to realize what her daughter is doing. Ironic. Something within the Reaper gives him the urge to tell the girl she shouldn’t be drinking that, but he remembers these are only shadows of the past.

The memories fly by even quicker.

Sweet memories, soft memories, happy memories. Years pass swiftly like waves crashing on the shore.

* * * * *

“What did you want me to see, Reyes?” Morrison stands in a long blue coat like the one on his statue. He is in his Strike Commander uniform looking regal, but exhausted. He sets down a half-emptied mug of coffee on the table and follows.

“This way, commander.” They walk down the dark hall, talking side by side. Reyes is in a simpler, darker outfit. He wears a gray sweater and dark blue pants with tactical armor over his torso and legs, almost similar to the Strike Commander. He also looks exhausted.

Jack follows him and approaches the half-silvered mirror of the interrogation room. Behind it, a young man sits with his hands cuffed to the table. He sports a black eye, a bunch of scrapes, and a sour look on his face. He wears a tattered black leather jacket and a yellow bandana over a dirty white shirt. His dark, unkempt brown hair is grown out like weeds and his skin is tanned from being out in the sun. He stares at the black cutter crease cowboy hat at the other end of the table.

“So this is the high-profile Deadlock member you managed to nab: a kid?” Jack appraises the young man skeptically. “Do we uh... have a name?”

“Yeah, Jesse McCree. Don't let him fool you. The kid’s wanted all around Southwest America. He’s been cooperating with intel and all of it checks out so far. But that’s not what you’re here for.”

“Okay, then what am I here for?”

“This is gonna sound crazy, but I wanna take him in.”

“No way in h—”

“Hear me out. Not Overwatch, _Blackwatch_. He's got potential as a Blackwatch agent.”

Jack squints at Gabriel and looks back to the glass. “ _This_ kid? What’s so special about him?” 

“During our raid on Deadlock, I saw what he could do. The kid's got some crazy shit up his sleeve. His people left him to die. Six of ours had him cornered and by the time I get there, he's cleared them in seconds flat. Thing is, no casualties. He could have if he wanted to. Went with us peacefully too.”

“Reyes, we're a world-class military organization, not a home for young criminals with special combat skills.” Jack stares at the kid. McCree doesn't see any of them through the glass. Instead, he tries reaching for his hat at the end of the table which is just out of reach. He bumps his knee, so the hat falls to the floor. The two commanders sigh and watch as the scrappy young man tries reaching for it with his leg. “...How old is he, anyway?”

“...Eighteen.”

“No he isn't.”

“Okay, seventeen and a half. Eighteen if you wanna keep him from rotting in the system. He's been here since last night and I've been talking a lot with him. Been nothing but cooperative for the most part. Kid's got potential and I don't wanna waste it by putting him behind bars.”

At this, Jack sighs. “Gabe.”

“He’ll be under Blackwatch as a probationary member. I'll take full responsibility for him. Besides,” Gabe nudges him and speaks in a lower tone. “This is probably the closest we'll ever get to adopting a kid.” He winks at his husband. Jack crosses his arms and rolls his eyes.

“ _Gabe._ ”

He gradually leans in. “C'mon, Jack, _look_ at ‘im. He’s so young, so talented. And in need of a second chance. Maybe a flea bath.”

Jack holds back the beginning of a laugh and nudges back. He stares down the kid behind the window appraisingly. Gabriel gives him more details about the young man's abilities and plans to integrate him, should Jack allow it. He then stands silently next to Jack, giving him space to think. 

A long moment passes, then Jack buries his face into his gloved hand with a deep sigh. “First the ninja guy and now this kid... You have such strange taste in agents you want to recruit. But I guess he _would_ be better off with us…” He mumbles to himself.

“C'mon, Jackie. You know it's the right thing to do.”

“Okay, now you're pushing it.”

“Should I sprinkle in a little _‘please’_ while I'm at it?”

Jack gives a yielding sigh. “I can't believe I'm doing this…” He looks the other commander square in the eye. “He's not living with us, though. We can't raise a teenager with our line of work.”

“He can live on base like our other subordinates. Jack, I'm not trying to actually make him our son—”

“Do we invite him over to the house for holidays?” The Strike Commander ignores him and begins to pace. “How am I gonna tell Ana we took in a _kid_?” He turns to his partner. “We can’t even send him to college, he has a criminal record!”

“Jack, _we_ didn’t even go to college.” The other man gently catches him in his tracks. “Hey, come down with me, Jack. You're overthinking again. It'll be okay.” The way Gabriel speaks to him makes it seem like Jack's anxious state is a usual reoccurrence. “We'll just ease him in like I did with Shimada. He'll probably be even easier. Again, _recruiting_ , not adopting. You won't ever have to worry about him, I swear.” Gabriel smiles as he squeezes a reassuring hand on his shoulder. This in turn makes Jack take a deep breath. After a few more whispers exchanged, he lightens up with a small smile. 

Commander Morrison stands at ease and looks his partner in the eye. “I'm taking your word for it, Commander Reyes.” He says sternly.

Gabe sweeps the room for prying eyes and sneaks a quick ‘thank you’ peck on his cheek before he walks back into the interrogation room. 

* * * * *

More time passes. 

There are longer periods of peace, but the battle continues. More close calls, more fighting under the radar, more problems with the public. There are more opponents at every turn, some untouchable, hiding behind government corruption. Things get a million times more complicated.

They don’t see each other as often as they’d like. They get separated for months at a time and sometimes take weeks to communicate, depending on their missions. But the love is still there, even if it's as quiet as a quick glance across the room or a subtle touch. Whether it be pulling either commander aside for a “private chat” or a stolen kiss when nobody else is around, they take whatever moments they can.

* * * * *

Music swells from the screen. A lulling melody. Tears are in Gabriel’s eyes and he sniffles a bit as the title of the movie shows up on the dark screen in teal letters: “The Shape of Water.”

“God, what a masterpiece,” Gabriel whispers. He leans over to rest his shoulder on Jack’s as the music plays.

_You'll never know just how much I miss you_

_You'll never know just how much I care_

_And if I tried, I still couldn't hide my love for you_ —

“Thanks for watching it with me aga—” Gabriel stops in his tracks, for he sees that Jack has a despondent look on his face that now contains fine lines. “Hey, is something wrong? Is it the movie? I know we’ve seen it a bunch of times already—” He places a hand on one of Jack’s crossed arms.

“Hm?” Jack is broken out of whatever train of thought he had. “Oh, sorry. I—”

“You okay?” Gabriel looks older too. His warm, brown eyes search with concern. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m… Yeah. I think so.” He sighs. I think I just miss you. I mean, last mission, you were away for _months_. I know we’ve been doing this for years, but think I just miss having you around all the time. Maybe I’m just codependent. I dunno.” Jack uncrosses his arms and accepts the invitation for a hug.

“I know, Jackie. It’s not easy. Don’t ever think I’m not thinking about you and wishing we were still able to do missions together.” He says softly.

“I trust you and all, but the longer you’re gone, the more I can’t help but think that each day is closer to the day you might never come back.” He sighs and tucks his head in the crook of Gabriel’s neck. “I’m sorry, Gabe. I—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He gently pulls him away to look his husband in the eyes. “C’mon, don’t be so grim. I’m right here with you right now, aren’t I?” He looks to the screen and his eyes light up with an idea. “C’mon, soldier. Up n’ at ‘em.” He pulls Jack up from off the couch and pulls their waists together. “Our song is playing, Jack. Dance with me?”

“Even with my two left feet?”

“Of course, twinkle toes. I’ll go easy on you.”

Jack sighs and acquiesces, letting Gabriel take his hand and waist.

_You went away and my heart went with you,_

_I speak your name in my every prayer_

_If there is some other way_ _to prove that I love you,_

_I swear I don’t know how..._

Gabriel softly sings along with the song in Jack’s ear as they slowly dance together. His voice has a smooth and even baritone timbre. “Just like our wedding, right? Song and all. I’m all yours right now, Jack.”

At this, he smiles in response. “Thanks, Gabe.” He leans in further.

“I know this isn’t the ideal life. ‘Normal’ isn’t exactly what we signed up for, so neither of us can really help it.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jack sighs. “Just taking what little we can get.”

“Hell, I mean, you know _I’m_ the one with attachment issues too. Hence the secret marriage n’ all.” Gabe chuckles and looks at his own golden ring with a smile. He gently pulls away and holds Jack’s hands in his. He rubs the matching golden ring on his husband’s finger with his calloused fingertip. “We belong to each other, y’know. I might not always be there, but I’m always with you.”

At this, Jack’s expression lightens up a bit. 

“How about this,” he points to the screen. “It’s not much, but... this song. Whenever I’m away, just listen to it. That’s exactly how I feel about you. I may be gone for a while, but I’ll always come back to you.” He pulls Jack closer and leans in to whisper. “‘No matter what,’ right?”

Gabriel whispers more sweet nothings in Jack’s ear and he melts into a smile. It seems like the man is rendered speechless at what his husband says to him.

The rest of the credits play out and end. Still, they hold each other close, reluctant to let go.

* * * * *

“Commander, I've a question about the next mission to Hanamur—OH, what are you _doing_?!” McCree appears at the door suddenly. A few more years have filled him in with toned muscle. The young man is cleaned up and wears black armored clothing with a bigger black cowboy hat. He looks at the two before him with widened eyes, making both commanders freeze like deer in the headlights.

“Dammit, McCree! I thought I told you not to barge in when you enter my office!” Gabriel grumbles through his teeth as he pulls Jack's shirt back down over his bare torso. Jack immediately drops his arms from the air down to the top of the desk where he is seated. His eyes are wide and his thin lips are pursed tightly.

“I thought you locked it. How’d he get in?” The commanders whisper to each other. Jack hastily tucks his shirt back into place and fixes his belt.

“Shit, I forgot I gave him level 4 clearance last week.” Their faces are flushed with red in the dim light of the Blackwatch commander’s office.

“Level 4? That's supposed to be for me and Ana. Why—”

“There's a possible mole. He's my second in command and the only one I can trust right now.”

“When were you gonna tell me—”

“Now, I guess,” Gabriel says quietly before he turns around. “Also, _cierra la puerta, cabrón!_ ” He hisses at McCree, who looks around, steps in, and complies.

The metal door slides closed with a gust of air. McCree looks around and only dares to step forward a tiny bit.

“You were supposed to be on the other side of the d— nevermind. What is it, McCree?” Reyes asks sharply with gritted teeth. “I have important business to attend to.” The Blackwatch commander is turned around to talk to McCree, but is still standing between the legs of his ‘business.’

McCree peers over, but Reyes follows, attempting to block Jack from the eyes of his subordinate with an iron glare. Not quite effectively, though. “Ga— Reyes, it's okay. He's already seen me.” Jack says with a resigned sigh.

“C-commander Morrison...?!” Jesse asks, squinting to peer at the other man.

Jack gives a dejected wave from behind Gabriel, who is still protectively glaring a hole into his subordinate’s head.

McCree looks to his commander. “Real professional, Reyes! Never thought you were the type for an _affair_ ! And with Commander _Morrison_ , of all people?! I knew you were on each other's asses, but not like _this!!!_ ”

“Affai— wait, what are you talking about, boy?” Everyone is now visibly confused.

“You said you were married, how could you do this to your husband?! How long has this been goin’ on?!”

The two commanders squint at the cowboy. They turn back and stare at each other for a second and then back to McCree.

“...Does he not know?” Jack asks Gabriel, seemingly distracted from his shame and still squinting in disbelief. He touches his shoulder, indicating that he wants to get up from the desk.

“Jesse McCree, don’t tell me you are _that_ much of an idiot.” Gabriel moves to let Jack hop off from the desk. His iron glare continues to pierce, albeit with irritated disbelief. Once Jack stands at his side, he takes Jack's left hand and pulls it up. Gabriel holds up his hand next to his own left hand to show their matching golden rings. “ _This_ since 2056. Dating since ‘50.” The quick mention of this detail seems to soften Jack's expression for a second before he speaks.

“Jesse, you polished off my corn casserole at our house during Christmas! We even had a deep conversation about farming. How’d you forget Reyes and I are married??” He sounds almost scandalized.

“Holy shit,” Jesse looks shaken. “Morrison is Mr. Jackie Reyes?!” The young man puts a hand to his brow. His face is frozen in shock and contemplation as he stares down the two commanders. “You looked so different then with your glasses. You were so nice too…” He mumbles to himself as he strokes his growing beard.

Jack narrows his eyebrows, thinking about what he just said. “‘Jackie Reyes…?’ Uh—nobody said my name was also ‘Reyes,’ but uh…”

Jack stops speaking when he notices his husband sputter and break out into laughter. It takes a moment for him to collect himself, but he finally speaks.

“ _Ay dios mio_ , Jesse! Sometimes you're thicker than these damned concrete walls!” Gabe continues to laugh. By the look of Jack and Jesse's reactions, this is an unusual but welcome sight. The way Jack looks at him reminds the Reaper of their wedding.

* * * * *

Years continue to pass.

They each continue to lead their own divisions, one in the public eye playing the ‘golden hero,’ the other protecting from the shadows and doing what needs to be done. It works out okay for years… Until things get messier. 

They often find themselves disagreeing over big, important decisions. They often get frustrated with each other, but the love is still there, though aged and more complicated now. They try not to bring work home, but it slips especially when the stakes are high.

Time rolls along like loose rocks off a cliff, scattering into the ocean.

Things get rougher, more complicated.

Gabriel looks sick, the dark circles under his eyes grow heavier. He insists he’s fine, but it's obvious that he’s subjecting himself to even more questionable genetic experiments. He denies it each time the subject is brought up. They fight about that too.

He's gone even longer. Talks less about his missions, or anything, really. The nights away from him get lonelier as they add up. The nights with his back turned to Jack, knowing his body is slowly crumbling and not being able to help him, are even lonelier.

* * * * *

“What happened in Venice?”

“Yeah, about that…” Gabriel scratches the back of his head. The man removes his beanie to reveal a buzzcut. There is no more time for the hairstyle he once had. He looks exhausted, coming straight from Venice to base. Parts of his clothes and armor are either burnt or damaged. Dried blood stains his clothing.

...

“You did **_WHAT_ **?!?!?!” Jack's teeth are gritted, his face twitches as he tries his hardest to keep it together.

“Yeah, I shot him out the window. Security was... pretty tight after that, but we got out okay.”

“By the skin of our teeth, no thanks t’ boss over here.” A familiar black hat is removed. McCree. He doesn't look too happy either. Standing nearby is a tall, slender, short-haired woman with a calculating look in her heterochromic eyes. She seems unperturbed by the rising conflict. Next to her is a shorter, angry-looking cyborg man with an impatient look in his eyes. The swords on his back are soiled with blood. They remain silent as the cowboy speaks. “He acted on his own, commander. Didn't reckon this was part of the mission.” 

Jack's eye is still twitching. The piece of paper clenched in his hand is on the verge of annihilation. He turns his head almost mechanically. “McCree, O’Deorain, Shimada. Thank you all for reporting to me immediately. I'm gonna need some time to have a chat with Reyes. _Alone_.” He gestures to the door. 

“Gotcha, commander.” McCree nods. The others follow, but not till McCree flashes Reyes a look before they leave the room.

A long, silent moment passes, but the tension in the air is thick like ocean fog.

“Gabriel, what the _fuck_?!” Jack is the embodiment of exasperation. “Do you realize what kind of hell you've just unleashed from killing Antonio?!”

“I did what needed to be done. As always.” Reyes sits in his seat with arms crossed, looking resolute.

“But you were supposed to bring him in _alive_!” Morrison exhales deeply with a palm on his face. “I can't keep covering your ass every time something big like this happens! You’ve really done it now, Reyes.”

“The fucker needed to go. You weren’t there, you don't know the things he said.” His resolve is solid as stone. “You didn’t hear what he knew, what he was threatening to do! Jack, you don't understand. It would’ve been worse, he knew about u—”

“The _council_ won’t understand either! And the media… God, they’re gonna be swarming all over us like flies! Now that Antonio’s gone, even _more_ crime lords are gonna spring up like daisies!” Jack is pinching the skin at the top of his nose in exasperation. “Gabe, we talked about this! What else could you have expected when you pulled the tr—”

“Okay, see? _This_ right here is the problem! Why can’t you trust me? You’re trying so hard to please everyone else, that you're blind to the damage you're _really_ causing! Don’t you dare think I’m not looking out for our best interest.”

“Gabriel, a high-profile criminal was murdered because of us! Because of _you!_ ” A hand is balled into a fist on the cold metal table. “Bringing Antonio in alive regardless of consequences _was_ in our best interest! What do you think will happen to Blackwatch now? To Overwatch?! Can’t you see what I’m trying to protect here?!”

Gabriel’s eyes darken. “You’re not the only one keeping us safe. Do you think I’m not trying to look out for us too? This was the only―”

“If we go down, know that _your_ choice is what got us there. I'm gonna go figure out how to clean this up.” Jack doesn't give him a chance to speak and turns away to slam the door.

Gabriel is left sitting there with a hurt and a contemplative gaze in his eyes, staring at nothing in particular. He sighs as his hands are clasped on the cold, metal table. He removes a glove and a calloused thumb draws itself over a golden ring. In his dark brown eyes remain words unspoken and a resolve unwavering.

“ _‘No matter what,’_ huh,” he mutters to himself.

* * * * *

As time passes, the two continue to argue and argue.

Things get more and more hectic, more difficult. In time, Overwatch suffers. Blackwatch even moreso. Both leaders have a point, but neither of them waver in their stubbornness in the coming years. The matched forces collide, yet drift further and further apart.

The flow of time moves quickly like sand falling through the neck of an hourglass.

They will soon be painfully aware of how they cannot change the past.

* * * * *

The two are fighting. But not in the way that they usually do. This time, their guns are out. They’re _really_ fighting each other, bloodied, bruised, and full of adrenaline.

Harsh words are exchanged. Their surroundings are being destroyed. 

“Why, Reyes?! How could you?!” Jack calls out indignantly. The other man says nothing and fires his gun. Jack dodges in time and grunts as he hits the floor. Reyes does not waver; something dark is hiding behind his eyes.

_Beep._

They continue to fight. It’s a grueling, senseless battle. Two powerful forces alike in strength clash like stormy ocean waves against jagged cliffs. 

The Reaper observes Reyes. His shots line up with the precision of an experienced marksman, yet at the last second, they miss as if they are warning shots. His dark brown eyes contain a dark resolve, yet ask the same questions. Does Jack see this too? Or is he blinded by indignation? 

The battle continues.

**[A/N] This was drawn over a year ago while the story was still a WIP]**

_Beep. Beep._

At this point, they both look worse for wear. Jack's pulse rifle is tossed to the floor. His heart is racing as he raggedly walks towards the silent man. A shotgun is pointed at his chest, stopping him in his tracks. No doubt the safety is pulled. “Gabe, please! This isn't you!” Jack calls out breathlessly. His tone is different now. The hurt behind the anger is finally unmasked. His blue eyes begin to glimmer with tears. “Why won’t you talk to me?!” 

_Beep. Beep beep—_

It's amazing, the extent of human nature. They can cause so much damage in such a short time. To themselves, to their surroundings, and especially to those they love.

“Look at us, look what we're doing!” Jack speaks breathlessly. He takes off his left glove and holds up his hand. “Does this ring mean nothing, then?!”

 _Beep_.

It’s amazing how little humans can know of what surrounds them, whether it be truths or something more tangible, yet just as deadly.

“All those years ago, you promised me—”

 _Beep_.

It's especially amazing how swiftly a human’s anger can disappear once they realize things have gone too far.

Gabriel Reyes wavers for a second. His eyes, they’re not—

_Beep beep beepbeepbeep—_

They look each other in the eye as they realize.

But it’s too late.

_BEEP BEEPBEEPB—_

Without warning, they are engulfed in flame, smoke, and rubble _—_

“ **_NO!!!_ **”

They are both yanked back to the present. The sky is now scattered with stars and the stalks of corn loom around them like a silent audience against the darkened sky. The air is still and sweltering emotion hangs thickly in the night. Jack’s hair is white again, his face is scarred, and his spirit dampened. The Reaper could see how the years were not kind to him. 

Jack breathes raggedly; a hollow, horrified look is in his misty eyes. His hands are retracted now, clasping the golden ring on his left hand. The whisper of a name dies as it barely reaches his scarred lips. He is panting and there are beads of sweat running down his forehead. It takes him a bit, but he takes notice of the dark smoke still surrounding him.

He looks up to see the Reaper and steps back with a gasp.

“Jack,” the Reaper says. It’s more of a question, considering the usual way this otherworldly being says his name with its gravelly, metallic voice. This time, it's careful. Maybe even caring. But neither of them notice.

Jack takes a couple of seconds until there is a look of recognition in his eyes. The sight of the Reaper does not make him feel any better, that much is clear. He falls to his knees. The man runs a shaky hand through his thinned silvery hair. His face is then buried in his hands and he shakes his head furiously, seemingly trying to banish whatever thoughts haunt him.

The man's broad, muscular shoulders begin to shake. His attempt at evening out his breathing fails as he begins to break.

There is an unfathomable stillness as Jack weeps.

The Reaper remains, an unlikely comfort as a companion for the mortal.

* * * * *

It takes time, but the man’s breathing slows and he eventually unburies his face from his scarred arms.

“Jack,” Reaper speaks softly as if he is asking a question.

The man in question numbly stares off into space, drained of his once overflowing emotion. “I lost everything that day: my husband, my home, my life. I've been living as a dead man ever since.” His words are spoken quietly and his breaths are shaky. “You know, they said he was behind the explosion, that he was jealous of me. But that can't be it.” He is still a bit choked up as he speaks. “You saw who he was. He wouldn't. Not him.” Jack shakes his head. “But at this point, who knows what really happened?”

The Reaper remains silent.

“That's just how life is, isn't it? You do all you can, then the universe finds a way to remind you how cruel and indifferent it is. _You’d_ know that better than anyone, huh?” Jack's shoulders tremble as he takes in a shuddering breath, trying to compose himself.

He wipes tears from his face. “If only I…” Jack takes a deep, weary sigh and shakes his head. I wish I could've―”

“Mortals have a set time, there was nothing you could have done to change the outcome.”

“If you're so set on me dying, then I’m surprised you didn’t kill me.” His voice is still broken as he raises his tone.

“...I can’t kill. I am only a symptom of death. Just like the two reapers watching you two in that final moment.” 

Jack is silent until he turns his head to face the Reaper. “Then why am _I_ still here?” He sighs and looks into the stalks of corn warily. “I was really supposed to die with him that day, then?” He sighs wearily as Reaper nods. “Can't say I'm surprised. Maybe I should have…” His hands are streaked with the shine of wiped tears. He is seated on the ground, shoulders slumped, and he rests an arm on an upright knee. The confidence and energy he usually radiates has gone and he is stripped of everything that conceals what’s really left of the widower who survived that day. 

The Reaper has seen many tragedies, many mortals break down into tears, but none have affected him the way that this man does. He has blankly watched moments more gruesome, more things that would shake any mortal to their core. But perhaps there's something about seeing the story behind the end and something about this man that eats away at him...

But he can't fathom what or why.

Without warning, the Reaper realizes he is overcome by another long-lost emotion: _Pain_.

Had the mortal’s emotions bled into him again?

It must be so, for he feels, which isn't what Reapers do. And it feels awful. And so very mortal. Had he a physical body, the Reaper would have a piercing ache in his chest. His mortal eyes would sting. Warm, wet tears would fall from them and gently trickle down his warm, ephemeral skin. He would be breathless and gasping from the pain, had he a set of human lungs and a mouth.

Instead, this mortal emotion weighs him down like a heavy blanket upon his entire being. It is a force so blunt and intense, that he cannot bring himself to look away from the ground. It's debilitating. It's humiliating for a being that shouldn't feel. It's too much to bear.

He had seen this kind of pain countless times, but experiencing some of it is a very different story. How in the world do mortals bear such a feeling? It is no wonder why these ephemeral, worldly beings do not last long.

At this point, he isn't sure if the ring given by Sombra is a privilege at all

...

“Do you remember anything? ...About him, I mean.” Jack turns and asks after a while. His scarred face is wiped of tears and he looks worn out. But for some reason, he is still beautiful to the Reaper. Even after reliving such tenderness and grief all at once, he remains determined. Maybe even more than he was before.

This man knows he is going to die very soon, yet he worries about someone already dead. How interesting humans are, especially in their moments of desperation.

The Reaper remains silent for a moment, looking almost pensive. He finally says, “...I haven't seen him before.”

Jack takes in a slow, deep breath and exhales. “Thanks for the trouble,” he says solemnly. “Reaper,” he asks after a moment. “When all of this is over, do you think I'll get to see him? Do you know what happens after we die?”

“My job is to take the souls of the dead to the Light. That’s as far as I know. We'll find out after I collect you.”

Jack huffs. “They really keep it strictly business up there, huh?”

“...It's better that way.”

The man stares at the ground with a pensive look in his eyes before he speaks. “Is it really, though? You've been working hard for something you've forgotten about ages ago. You're here to possibly collect the soul of a man who's genetically modified to heal fast and has lived far beyond his time. You even said so yourself that I'm the “Living Ghost.” Do you ever wonder if this deal you made was set up to fail?” 

The Reaper remains silent again.

“...The experiments still have effect?” He asks after a moment. 

“It's probably why I survived the explosion and the years after that. I know for a fact that I've died at least a few times before. I probably would’ve stayed that way if I weren’t pumped with super soldier drugs. I know that much, at least.” He looks exhausted. “The healing factor can only fix so much in time to keep you alive. Gabriel… wasn't so lucky that day.” There is a complex, weary expression on his face.

With a grunt, he begins to get up. 

“I knew what I signed up for when we got together. I knew I could lose him at any moment. But he would always come back, no matter what.” His eyes focus on something that isn't there. Seemingly out of impulse, his body gets ready to move towards it, but he quickly catches himself. “Till that day, at least.” Jack shakes his head to banish whatever image his mind had cruelly conjured. 

Jack Morrison sighs and takes a moment to gather himself. He looks around the clearing one last time. He then looks up to the sky and takes in a slow, deep breath. “I'm guessing I've probably got less than a day left.”

Without another word, Jack slowly walks to the aircraft. His stride is different; it exudes an inherent wearines. Silvery snow-white hair sways with a gust of air from the opening door.

“Time to go,” he says warily.

The Reaper stays where he is for a moment to observe the human. Watching him walk, taking notice of his gait.

For a man who has lived longer than he should have, the Reaper now understands how deeply fitting it is to call him “The Living Ghost.”

_You said goodbye, now stars in the sky refuse to shine_

_Take it from me, it's no fun to be alone with moonlight and memories_

_You went away, and my heart went with you—_

* * * * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “And perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone.” -Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles
> 
> * * * * *
> 
> Also, what do you think Antonio knew about?


	7. [Extra Comic] I Hardly Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here's a small comic I drew for chapter 6 based on the lyrics of this song:  
> [I Hardly Remember (The Widow on Avenue D) by Georgia Stitt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zx_J96sjhhU)
> 
> Yeah, this has been sitting in my brain for years. It took me all week to draw LOL
> 
> ❤️Please make sure to scroll to the right a bit! Ao3 uploads the pictures really big for some reason❤️

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The lightly scented freesia flower can be used when a partner dies.](https://www.funnyhowflowersdothat.co.uk/mourning-and-symbolism-flowers) The flower symbolizes unconditional love and innocence.
> 
> Also, announcement! Short chapters and no art for the next two weeks because I'll be having my third surgery this year on Friday Dec. 4. I'm okay and healthy, so no need to worry! Thank you for your support! ❤️
> 
> *Update/Fun fact, I got a head injury in the same exact place Jack's is drawn in the 'Winter Comes' panel a week after I published this. (I'm okay now, don't worry.) Am I psychic? LMAO


	8. Some Things Are Meant To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!  
> A short but concise chapter this week since I'm having surgery today. (I'm healthy and all that, so no need to worry!)  
> Tbh, I just happened to pace the story this way, so I guess that's convenient.  
> Anyway, thank you for your patience! ❤️✨

The mortal had finally drifted off to sleep, although in a position asking for a stiff neck. The Reaper doesn't think this is how he will end, but he still watches over him intently. He thinks about their conversation earlier, how pensive Jack appeared as he sat in the aircraft. 

_ “You know, I’m not afraid to die. Haven't been for ages. Doesn't mean I'll go without a fight, though. I still feel okay, so I'm probably not gonna die of sickness. I'm not in any mood to die either. That leaves only a few more ways I could think of…” _

The Reaper himself wonders how it will happen. He stares at the sleeping man, knowing each breath he takes could be his last. 

Not too long ago, those thin lips moved to ask him such annoying, mortal questions. They had also spoken of some hard truths that the Reaper, in his experiences, has known to be ever prevalent.

* * * * *

_ “Do you ever need rest? Did you get to choose to be a reaper or did it just happen?” _

_ “I'm not alive, so I don't get tired.” The Reaper hadn’t answered specifically, for he never really thought too hard on these things until then. “I don’t remember becoming this or anything about myself before that. I just know that I was alive once, I have a job to do, and that I exist to do it.” It felt more like an interview than a conversation. It also made him realize how he had been working nonstop for... who knows how long it had been…? _

_ “And what made you choose a shotgun as a scythe?” _

_ “Shotguns are efficient.” _

_ Jack's brows furrowed as he thought for a moment. “Do others have older models based on what time period they lived in?” _

_ “I don’t pay attention to the others.” _

_ “Wow, you sound like a lot of fun.” Jack huffed. “Are you also employee of the month? Year…? Or century? Not really sure how reaper time works.” _

_ “We don’t do that. I’m a reaper, I don’t have fun.” He almost snarled. _

_ Jack frowned and paused to cross his arms pensively. “Have you ever… tried?” _

_ “...What?” _

_ “Can you... enjoy things? Do you even have real emotions?” _

_ At this, the Reaper turned away. _

_ “Was it something I said? Sorry, I’m just curious.” _

_ After a long pause filled with the mortal’s anticipation, the Reaper quietly answered. “Rarely. Reapers don't need emotions, so the ability to feel eventually fades. At this point, I’m just a shadow of the man I was before.” _

_ After a moment, Jack responded, “Then I guess you and I aren’t so different. Just ghosts of the past lingering in the present.” Looking Reaper up and down, he spoke again. “I wonder if it's fate that we met like this...” _

_ A moment of pensive silence passed between them as the television monitor blasted the news. Jack may have had his eyes trained on the screen, but his mind was certainly somewhere else.  _

_ “Reaper,” he said quietly like a nudge, eyes still trained on the screen. The man waited till he felt the otherworldly being’s gaze on him to turn his head. “Not for nothing, but thanks for humoring me. Even though I might die, I'm glad it was you who was assigned to me. Maybe some things are meant to be, just not in the way you expect.” _

* * * * *

The mortal’s words remain in the Reaper’s thoughts. He wonders why he allows himself to humor his questions and snarky comments. Why he could feel such warmth, especially when the man showed a more vulnerable side of himself. 

Perhaps it was nice to just have someone to talk to. Something with a pulse, teeming with possibility and mystery since he still has yet to feel the cold finality of death. Of course something dead would be drawn to a being full of warmth and life. Just like a withered plant reaching towards sunlight, right?

Even so, his time and interactions with Jack have felt like something more than that.

It couldn't be that he'd gotten... attached?

No.

It shouldn't be like that. There is no need for such a thing as attachment, especially between a reaper and his charge.

All that reaper R-34937 had known during this eternity of an existence was the only certainty in life: death. The Reaper himself is dead just as this man will soon be. Not all people die in their assigned time, but they all die eventually. Jack may be important, but he is still only one of countless mortals and especially to the Reaper, a means to an end. There's no way he should be attached…

Right?

But the Reaper has no more time to think on this, for he takes notice of the ship falling lower and lower at a rapid speed. There is nothing but water and sky as far as he can immediately see. He looks at the destination on the monitor and it isn’t anywhere near their coordinates. A different screen says there is something wrong with the fuel tank. Notably, Jack is still asleep while the ship is going down.

...

_ This _ must be it.

Unless this ORCA ship can handle high-velocity fall damage and secretly turn into a submarine, this is definitely it. An ironic name for an ironic end in the ocean.

The sensors pick up the rapidly decreasing altitude of the ship.

This isn’t the worst way to go, at least.

Jack Morrison is going to die. 

He's just one of the many the Reaper has taken. One of many grains of wheat in a field of many others to be reaped. The last grain, the final number between the Reaper and his goal to cross over. This mortal man’s death is warranted, his death is certain. The only difference is that… 

It doesn't have to be this way.


	9. Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm doing okay! Thank you for your patience and kind words ❤️  
> Regularly scheduled longer chapter and art next week!

It’s finally happening.

The ORCA is going down towards the ocean at a rapid speed. Jack hasn't woken despite the ringing of the monitors. 

The Reaper knows he should want this to happen. But the fact of the matter is… he doesn’t. 

He hates to admit it, but it's clear that his obligatory indifference had become something like morbid curiosity. And along the way, that curiosity evolved into some kind of unwanted attachment to a mortal. In particular, _this_ mortal who is unknowingly plummeting to his death. 

Reaper looks to the mortal.

He stirs in his sleep as if he is caught in a nightmare.

The Reaper knows he should let this happen. It’s his job to wait and watch, after all. It's what he is meant to do, what is meant to be.

Even so...

“Jack,” he raises his gravelly voice. He can’t believe he’s doing this. The Reaper calls his name a few more times, sounding a bit more desperate with each call. His voice claws at the air in futile lashes while the ship rings its warnings. 

Why won’t he wake?

Are these the cruel hands of fate grasping onto what he knows shouldn’t be happening? Is this really it? But it can’t be, there’s so much more he wants to—

The Reaper retracts for a second, suddenly remembering himself. 

He _wants_ this to happen. This is what he had been working towards for so long. A mere mortal shouldn’t have the power to ruin all that he has worked for, no matter how this man made him feel. 

This is _supposed_ to be what he wants. 

But it isn’t.

…

Dark mist surrounds the doomed mortal. Amidst it, a clawed, otherworldly hand reaches out.

However, it passes right through the mortal’s shoulder as it should. No flash of memories either.

Strange how it doesn't work. Perhaps some things really are just meant to be…

...

But not this.

He tries reaching out again. He tries again. And again. And again.

“Jack!” He finds himself yelling now, a feat he had no idea he was capable of. Clawed fingers swipe and grasp to no avail. If the Reaper had a heart, it would be racing in his chest. Maybe even breaking. He knows it's useless, that he should let it happen. Even so, he keeps trying and trying. 

The Reaper sees how close they are to the water. He knows this isn't the time, but he takes notice of a new emotion: _Fear_.

How silly it is for an incarnation of death itself to feel something like fear. Yet still, it sinks its hooks into his very being and pulls taughtly, driving him to grab the mortal in one final, desperate motion.

“ _JACK!!!_ ” Reaper's voice tears through the air as he grasps the mortal by the shoulders with both hands this time.

Jack flinches awake and his eyes flutter open. He looks up into Reaper's mask and down to the two clawed hands digging their otherworldly steel into his flesh. For a second, the man squints and mouths something before he takes notice of the ship’s warning of his impending doom.

“ _Shit!_ ” Jack practically barks as Reaper removes his hands and lets the man get up. The mortal looks outside the ship and pales at how close he is to hitting the ocean.

Jack scrambles to the cockpit and works furiously at the controls, angrily mumbling and cursing to himself.

The Reaper remains where he is, staring down at his open hands in silence. 

“This is Soldier 76 to base, do you copy?!” He yells into a communicator. “My ship’s been compromised and is going down! Requesting for immediate backup, sending coordinates now!” He looks to another monitor and speaks again. “My fuel tank is damaged, so you'll need to find me here. Initiating emergency provisions. Beacon in place and going down in about… seven seconds.”

Jack races to take his position and brace for impact. 

_Four._

He's settled and gripping on for dear life.

_Three._

He looks around for his companion.

_Two._

They both wonder why Jack is concerned for the safety of a being that is already dead.

_One._

The ORCA goes down with a thunderous _crash_ into the ocean. 

The interior of the ship glows red with warning and the ORCA sinks for a moment. But the emergency provisions kick in and the ship bobs back up and down till it floats in the water. The large glass door is now halfway engulfed in ocean and the other half in sky. Most importantly, Jack is safe.

“It's not the sturdiest, but it should hold long enough.” Jack sighs in relief. “Thanks for the save, Re—”

Jack grows silent, for he finds himself talking to empty space.

“Reaper?” He looks around the ship.

The black smoke has disappeared without a trace. 

Looking around once more, Jack finds that Reaper has vanished.

* * * * *

  
“Fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. We yield to it or we fight it, but we cannot meet it halfway.”

― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think Jack saw?


	10. If You Don't Know Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Implied sexual content

White.

Nothing but white. Light and nothing else. Expanding further than the farthest reaches of imagination. Maybe even further.

And somewhere in the middle of that infinity sits a black lacquered Desk surrounded by a sea of moving shadows.

A particular shadow exuding black smoke slithers through the crowd, this time with a fervent pace. It arrives at the Desk, taking on the form of a hooded man in black. Hastily, he places both clawed hands on the darkly lacquered surface.

“Sombra,” he says so intensely, that the woman behind the Desk darts her eyes up.

“Oh hey,” she says, unshaken, but seemingly caught off guard. “What’s going on?” Sombra asks, appraising the dark being. She peers into the dark eye holes of his owl mask, trying to find any indication of his particular mood. 

“I need a file on a certain human.” The dark hooded figure takes off a clawed glove and places his hand on the scanner, looking her square in the eyes. They both notice the ring on his left middle finger pulsating a bright red light.

“Reaper number R-34937.” The same robotic voice coming from the scanner confirms. A glowing screen rises before the woman at the Desk. The glove is put back into place.

“Gabriel Reyes. The one connected to the Jack Morrison file.”

“Yeah, sure.” She says as she taps at the screen and begins to type. “Alright, John Francis, aka “Jack” Morrison...” She taps something and pauses with a puzzled look on her face. She taps the screen again. And again.

“Bad news.” She looks up to R-34937. “We don’t have access. Why do you need it?”

“I need to confirm something.”

Sombra squints at him and at the glowing red ring that shines through the black glove. “What did that thing do to you, exactly? You haven't been yourself at all, Mr. R.”

“It doesn't matter what it did. Why can't you pull up the file?”

“Hm, the only time I can't pull up a file is when it goes against a reaper’s contract.”

He pauses to think 

How could seeing a mortal's file be against his contract? “And why do you call me Mr. R?” He halts for a brief moment before his question slowly rolls out like smoke. “What do you know about me?” 

Sombra’s eyes widen and her lips purse for a fraction of a second. Her eyes narrow as she looks into the eye holes of his mask. “Clever,” She cracks an amused smile and crosses her arms. “Tell me what the ring does and I just might give you a hint.”

The Reaper clenches a fist for a moment before he speaks. “It lets him see and feel me. It also let him show me things. Bits of his past just through touch. If we're in contact long enough, it infects me with human emotions.”

Sombra looks surprised. “‘Infects,’ huh? Interesting…” She stares at his left hand which rests on the Desk. The ring still glows a bright crimson through the glove. “Your contract must be something _really_ special if it lets you touch the mortal world and see its past.” Sombra grows pensive for a second. “Maybe there's something it wants to show you. Do you remember your contract?” 

“No.”

“Not even a single detail?” She raises a brow with a vertically shaved line. “Is there anything at all that you can remember?” 

“I need to do something before I cross over. But I'll need the rest of my soul to remember what it was. That's all.”

“Hm, forgetting is common with reapers. Most stop caring about their contracts and continue reaping.” She pauses to think and scroll through a different file. Without warning, she bursts out with a gasp. “Oh!” A look of sympathy flashes in her eyes, but only for a brief second.

“What?” R-34937 leans in.

“Good news!” Sombra adjusts herself in her seat. “I think I know what your contract is!”

“What is it?”

“Bad news! Can't tell you. It's against _my_ contract.” She shrugs. “But…” She leans in closer. 

“But what?” He takes the bait, he's leaning in too. Sombra takes notice, but she tries to contain her amusement. She looks around, cups her mouth, and whispers. “The most I can say is that certain information is withheld to prevent... _biases._ ”

“‘Biases?’ Does that mean _—_ ”

Sombra shakes her head, makes a zipping motion with her fingers, and throws the zipper away. “Anyway, is that all you're here for?” 

“Biases, huh…” R-34937 thinks for a second. “I want to see Morrison’s file.” 

“Clever. Can I get a pretty please?”

“Sombra.”

“C'mon. _I've_ got all of eternity. Not so sure about you, though.”

He grumbles. “...Please.”

“That'll do.” She grins and flicks over the file. The Reaper takes a second to look at Jack and then scrolls to the section for Gabriel Reyes. In it is a highly condensed summary of their relationship. 

He speaks softly as he reads the end of the section. “...Cause of death: Not clearly known by subject. Final word(s) spoken to subject: J―” Without warning, the Reaper grows dead silent and even his smoke is still like a corpse.

A moment passes, and he finally looks down at his hands. The ring is still pulsating brightly on his middle finger. 

Slowly, he looks back up at her. ‘R’ isn't just part of my number, is it?”

Before she can respond, reaper R-34937 is gone.

* * * * *

The sound of waves crashing against stone fills Jack Morrison’s ears.

The weather is calm and a cool, salty ocean breeze blows as the man walks heavy steps on the grassy cliff. Tucked in his arm is a singed piñata shaped like a colorful donkey. When he reaches the edge of the cliff, he takes a seat on the grass with a little grunt.

Next to him sits a younger man with sun-kissed skin, grown-out dark brown hair, and a tan cowboy hat. A red serape is wrapped around his shoulders. In his mechanical left hand is a burning cigar. 

“You should quit those, son. They’ll kill you, ya know.”

The younger man huffs and snuffs the cigar on the rocky cliff they sit on. Spurs jingle as he turns to the other man. “You know, Hanzo tells me the same thing. I reckon a man can’t ever catch a smoke break,” he drawls. “Heard ya got stuck in the ocean. That’ll prolly get you quicker than any ol’ cigar.”

The older man huffs. “That or Ana. I already got an earful from her cuz that ship’s probably on its way to the deep like the _Titanic_ ,” Jack muses. “She’ll probably have my head by sundown.” They both laugh. Jack's grumbly laughter is a stark contrast to the younger man's voice, which is smooth and thick like molasses. “Glad to see you again in person, Jesse. It's been a while, hasn't it?”

Jesse removes his hat with his metallic hand and places it down. “Good to see you too, Jack. I’m glad you’re still alive and kickin’ after all you've been through.” He doesn't take notice of the somber expression that quickly flashes on Jack's face. “‘Specially with all your handiwork in Mexico the other day.”

“Old soldiers are hard to kill,” he says with a shrug. “By the way, I remember you asked for a souvenir from Mexico on our last call, so I got you this.” He pulls out the burnt, slightly soaked piñata and the cowboy shoots an amused expression. 

“That's why you're totin’ that thing around? Your ship crashes and you save the piñata?” He laughs as he sits it in between them and thanks him. 

“A promise is a promise,” he shrugs. Jack then starts to tell him the story behind it including the gang he took down along the way. The two spend a while catching up and reminiscing in the soft, late afternoon light.

* * * * *

“Say, you wouldn’t happen to have Reyes hidin’ around in the shadows, would ya?” He scans the area with his warm hazel eyes that change from wood to honey in the light as they flick around. “You talk about him as if he's still ‘round here somewhere.”

Jack pauses for a second. “Wish I could say that he was. I’d find him myself and pull him out by the ear right now if I could.” They chuckle again. Jack’s trace of a smile sobers and he looks out to the waves. “You weren't there, but his ashes were scattered into the ocean like he wanted. So I guess in a way, he's been here all along.” Jack nods to the water crashing against the cliffs.

Jesse huffs. “Nosy bastard’s gotta be everywhere even in death, I guess.”

“I guess so,” Jack grins. “Speaking of which, who’s Hanzo? Have I met ‘em before?”

“Not that I know of. But Hanzo’s the salt to my pepper.” At this, the older man warmly smiles. “...Aaaand Genji’s older brother.”

His smile falls into a look of surprise. “Wait, Hanzo _Shimada_ ? The one Genji was real touchy about? How’d we get him _here_?”

“It took ‘em a while, but the two made up and Genji invited him when Overwatch went into recall.”

“Wow,” Jack seems both amused and impressed. “I remember Genji being so closed off during his time in Blackwatch. I'm glad for them, then. ... _He_ would be so proud too.” A distant look is in his deep blue eyes as he stares at the equally blue water hitting the cliffs.

“I reckon time really can heal some.” Observant honey eyes look over to the older man. “But really now, how’re you holdin’ up after all of this? You never really let go, did you, Jack?”

Jack squints, yanked away from his thoughts. “Did you just make a _Titanic_ reference?” He playfully knocks Jesse’s bicep. “Let an old man reminisce, won’t ya?” He smiles with a sigh and looks out to the line where the ocean meets the sky. “It's been about... ten years since I— Since _we_ lost him that day.” He speaks softly now. Any bit of playfulness he had fades out like a dying ember. “...But I don't think people can ever be truly gone. We might die, but we still leave behind memories—footprints in the world.” Jack looks wistful as he speaks. “So many things make me think of him. The ocean, the shore. Little things like burgers, sewing kits… even crossword puzzles.” He grins as if there is so much to say, yet nothing to speak of. The older man turns to Jesse. “And especially seeing the good man we helped raise,” he knocks the other man's bicep with a proud smile on his face. “I'd say he's left his mark plenty.”

“Aw shucks, you're gettin’ soft on me,'' Jesse smiles back as he takes his hat and adjusts it on his head. “You seem different from when we last talked. I wanna say _lighter_. Did somethin’ happen?”

Jack looks out to the shores of Gibraltar with that same pensive look in his eyes. “Just been thinking a lot lately. Time really flies, doesn't it? It hasn't felt like ten years. I still see _that day_ whenever I close my eyes. It happens all over again. I'm at the Swiss base. I hear the ringing in my ears. I see the still anger in _his_ eyes… his gun pointed at me.” Jack's right hand wanders to his ring. “The biggest regret of my life was not being able to save him. I always wonder, though. How badly did I let him down to make him attack me like he did? What could I have done to prevent it? I don't know if I imagined it, but there was such a strange look in his eyes. It almost didn't feel like him. Then him pushing me out the window…” He furrows his brow, deep in thought. “Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me to make sense of things.”

Jesse sighs and looks to him sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Jack. I know it ain’t easy.” He leans to place a hand on his shoulder for a moment. “I often wonder about it too. If only he were really just hidin’ somewhere ‘round here. Maybe you could really drag him out by the ear and interrogate him for me.” He huffs. “But if you ask me, I don't think you should blame yourself. Somethin’ ‘bout that situation doesn't sit too right with me either. Do you think he really woulda done all that to us? To _you_?”

Jack gives a weary sigh as he looks from Jesse to the ocean again. “Even if he did, I could never bring myself to hate him. I've been looking for answers all these years. I have a lead that says Talon had something to do with it, but I don't know how and all my evidence has come to dead ends.” He sighs. “Like the media said, it's an easy story. The two commanders falling out. One getting jealous and a sabotage gone wrong, wiping out the Swiss base and the heart of Overwatch in one big explosion... All wrapped up in a neat little bow.” He sighs with a weary expression.

“But you and I both know that ain't it. Nobody knew him like we did. Hell, you even _married_ the guy.” A comforting thumb rubs back and forth on the older man's shoulder. “Reyes was _not_ a jealous man. It had to be somethin’ else.”

“I know. _He_ was the one who wanted me to lead Overwatch after the war. Hell, we even made things work for years. Didn't mean we were safe from falling out, though. The longer I search for answers behind the explosion of the Swiss base, the more I feel like a crazy old man trying to put the blame on someone else instead of accepting my own failure. Maybe it really was all my fault.” 

Jesse’s grip tightens on his shoulder in sympathy. 

Jack puts a hand over it and squeezes back. “At this point, who knows? ...Gabriel had secrets even I couldn't fathom. You know, he and I weren’t doing too great near the end either. We weren't even talking a few weeks before he—before the incident.” His face crinkles and he takes a second to breathe away whatever phantom pain overtakes him. “But I guess I’ll never know if I don’t know now.”

Before Jesse could respond, Jack holds up a finger and opens his jacket. “I almost forgot. I had just enough time to save these too.” He pulls a stack of pictures from a pocket inside of his jacket and hands them to Jesse.

“Wow, these ol’ things? I thought they went down in flames years ago! Good to see they're still in one piece.” Jesse holds up a picture that's a quarter burnt and waves it a bit. “More or less.” He holds the picture more gingerly to look at it. “Those were the days, weren't they? Everyone looks so young!” He cracks a small, nostalgic smile until his eyes reach a certain person. “Lindholm still looks the same, though.”

Jack laughs. “I’m sure he does. I also have a picture of Lacroix and his wife somewhere in there.” He adjusts himself to look at the other man. “Anyway… Jesse, there's something I needa tell you,” he says with a more somber tone. “A lot of weird stuff’s been happening to me lately.”

Jesse turns his head from the pictures. “Whaddya mean by that? Are you sick or somethin’?”

“No no, I'm okay, son. It's probably just an old man being paranoid.” He gently smiles. “But just in case something happens to me, I want you and Ana to have them, okay?” He pushes the pictures towards Jesse. 

Jesse furrows his brows and looks back at him. “Jack, is there somethin’ you're not telling me? You've seemed mighty preoccupied compared to how you usually are.” Jesse firmly places the small pile of pictures back in his hands. 

“Can't get anything past you anymore, can I?” He muses as he takes the pictures back. “I still remember when you thought Commander Morrison and I were two different people,” he chuckles and begins to get up with a grunt. “It's just a feeling I have. The way my aircraft went down… Something about it makes me feel like it wasn't an accident. There's probably someone on my trail. I'll go check the security monitors with Winston again.” He playfully pushes down on Jesse’s hat. “We'll sound the alarm if anything’s up. See you soon.” With that, the old soldier leaves with his son watching warily.

* * * * *

Jack walks around the Gibraltarian base, almost as if he is strolling through a garden.

It's a somewhat discreet base and is built in a large promontory facing the ocean. Behind it lies a town area connecting to the rest of Spain. The base itself is simple and has the ability to hold a decent amount of personnel. Its living quarters are fairly sized and more than enough to house the returning and new members answering the Overwatch recall. The base itself retains its blue, orange, and silver metallic motifs, although a little more rusted and worn than Jack remembers.

He catches up with a few more friends over dinner, including Ana, Fareeha, her daughter who is now a young woman with a similar Eye of Horus tattoo, and their old friend, Winston. 

After that, Jack finds himself with some time alone. He sits at a different area on the cliff facing the ocean. The sun glows a deep golden hue on everything it touches. It warms his skin and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath of ocean air.

“Guess I was wrong about seeing my last sunset yesterday,” he tenderly speaks out to the ocean. A hand finds its way to fidget with a ring as golden as the light warming his skin. He takes another deep breath and drowns himself in thought.

A moment passes as he hums his favorite song to himself.

* * * * *

Jack’s humming fades out and he sighs. “You know, hiding doesn't really work if I can tell you're there.” He turns his head for a brief few seconds. “C'mon out.” 

A second passes. Then another. 

From the shadows emerges a tendril of dark smoke. It seeps closer behind the mortal and transforms from a cloud of black smoke into a humanoid figure. Behind Jack Morrison stands a reaper. _His_ Reaper.

“Hey,” he calls out with his head tilted, but not turning his head from the sight of the waves. “Not sure if I should say it's good to see you again.”

The mist is a thick mix of dark violet and charcoal that sullenly hangs in the air.

“Thought I was off the hook, but I guess not.” Jack huffs with amusement and resignation in his eyes. “So what happened? Where'd you go?” There's a pause before he turns to see Reaper simply staying where he is in silence, not looking at anything in particular.

A breeze flows, giving the wild plants around them a gentle brush. The dark being’s form remains unperturbed by the breeze, reminding Jack of its otherworldliness.

“I... saved you. _Again._ ” Reaper finally speaks, but in a soft, pensive tone. He's staring down at his hands now. “I wasn't supposed to.”

“Yeah, I thought you wanted me dead. You're really bad at your job, y’know.” Jack says fondly as he walks to him with an intent gaze. “Old habits die hard, don't they?”

“What?” He looks directly at Jack now.

“Ever since you saved me and disappeared, I've been thinking a lot. About you.”

Reaper is visibly taken aback. The smoke grows blacker and thicker as it surrounds them. The mortal, however, isn't stirred like the first time. He seems so focused, so sure. 

“Why?” Reaper sounds almost defensive when he asks.

“You said you were once a man before. Do you have any memories of being alive? Anything at all?”

Everyone seems to be asking him for answers that he doesn't have lately. He stands still as they are now face to face. They hadn't been this close since Jack's ship had crashed. “I still don't. What are you getting at?”

The mortal examines the reaper. “Something’s different about you. What happened?”

Reaper looks off to the side and remains silent for a moment. There is nothing but the sigh of the ocean breeze and the various sounds of people in the far-off distance. Jack notices the mist swelling in its space, almost as erratically as a racing heart.

“...You did.”

Jack's breath hitches. Reaper continues. “I know I was supposed to let you go, but I couldn't.” He pauses to think. Although Jack can't see his face, Reaper seems genuinely confused. “No mortal has ever affected me like this. _Why_ do you make me feel like this?” Jack notices clenched fists at his sides.

“What do I make you feel?” He asks softly like a calm tide on the shore.

The smoke is now dreary and thick. Reaper makes a gravelly sound akin to an exasperated exhale. “...Warm.” The word rolls off in a weak, defeated tone. The dark mist slowly grows more solid and takes up even more space. The mortal is so focused on the reaper, that he pays little attention to it wrapping around them. “I feel it when we touch, when I'm near you. I feel it when you laugh, even when you look at me. I'm not supposed to feel _anything_ , but the warmth… draws me to you.” He closes in on the man. “What have you done to me? _How_ are you doing it?”

Two forces of life and death stand equal in height at an arm's length apart. Jack looks intently into the dark holes of Reaper's mask. “I'm not trying to do anything to you.” The mortal's brow furrows as he stares death in the face. But this time, with an innate tenderness, trying to reach beyond the mask that separates them. “What if you've been able to feel all along? Maybe now you just... feel more than you thought you could. Maybe the warmth is something else.”

And just like that, Reaper notices the awakening of another dormant feeling.

It reminds him of pain. It's a different kind. An echo of pain, perhaps. Instead of the intense weight, he feels… wrong. Wrong as if there is something important missing that he feels incomplete without. 

What could it be...?

_Yearning._

He tries to ignore it and backs up a step. “What would _you_ know? What are you trying to get at, _mortal_?” His final word cut like jagged cliffs.

Jack’s iron gaze is unaffected. “Reaper, I don't think your assignment to me was a coincidence.” He finally makes the full turn and takes a step closer. Reaper backs up again in one fluid motion. “What happened when you woke me?”

“Why does that—”

“Please, just tell me.” The man's heart is racing. He doesn't take notice of the fact that they are almost completely surrounded by the dark smoke. The setting sun’s warm light is the only thing that allows him to see Reaper clearly.

“...I called out to you, but you didn't hear me. I tried to touch you,” he lifts his right hand and looks down at it. “It went right through you like it should have. I thought that meant it really was your time. Maybe it was.” He sees Jack’s expression change to pensiveness. “But something happened. I yelled out your name and I was able to grip you by the shoulders. When I did, I saw a vision. You woke up, looked at me, and called me something.” 

“You saw it too? What did you see?”

“You. You were younger. The vision was different, though.”

“How?”

“This time, I was in it grabbing your shoulders and calling out to you.” 

Jack's breath hitches.

“I wasn't seeing your dream, was I?” He can feel the ring pulsating with energy like a beating heart. He grips his hands tightly into fists again.

“No… You weren't.” Jack's voice is stifled in his throat. “I saw something different.” 

“...What did you see?”

“I was looking at _you_ . You were alive. You yelled my name—you pushed me out of a window. I called out _your_ name.”

...

There are no words for how Reaper feels at that moment. Neither for the mortal.

Silence.

“Then you... know who I am...” The otherworldly being’s words leak out of him.

“ _Gabriel..._ ” Jack whispers. He speaks the name cautiously. It grounds them to the current reality of the in-betweens that created such a distance. Even so, Jack's gruff voice wavers. “It's really you, isn't it?” His eyes begin to tear up. “You showed _me_ a memory this time.”

“I guess so.” He says resolutely. “...How long have you known?”

“It was only a feeling at first, but the more time I spent with you, the more I noticed. The more I wondered. Then when you showed me your ‘scythe.’ I only know one person who uses that kind of shotgun.” He says, his expression is wise and weary, but there is a light to him and his words are like a rekindled flame. “It wasn't that hard to guess after that. Especially with your tells. The way you talk. How you pull away when I'm right and you don't want me to be. How you lie to yourself about how much you really feel.” A small smile is on his face. “I've known you longer than I haven't. I'd know you blind. I'd know you even in death. Your memory might have faded, but I don't think you're any less yourself.” He looks down to Reaper's hands. “And I wouldn't have shown you as much as I did if I didn't think you could be Gabriel.”

Reaper is thrown into a pensive silence as Jack wipes a tear from his glassy eyes.

“If you were able to show me that memory,” he takes a step closer. “Do you remember anything else? How long have _you_ known?” 

Empty black eyes of a mask gaze back at the mortal. “...That moment on the ship, I didn’t do it on purpose. But it made me realize who I was.”

“Then how’d you do it?” Jack reaches out a hand, but it goes right through Reaper’s undisturbed form. The mortal retracts his hand with a frown. Reaper could see the pain in his eyes that affects him more than he would ever admit. “And why can't I touch you anymore?” Jack tries again but to no avail, holding nothing but empty air.

“The ring.” Before Jack's hand can fall back to his side, Reaper catches it with his left hand. A surge of energy travels through the reaper and mortal, but this time they don’t let go. “It was given to me right before my assignment to you. I think it’s making all of this happen,” his voice sounds like a strained whisper. Jack’s hand is so warm to Reaper’s own lifeless touch, that he wonders if his own being will singe. The look of awe on the mortal's face keeps him holding on.

“You're so cold, Gabriel…” Jack speaks tenderly as he looks up from their hands. “How are you here? How’d you get assigned to me?” He practically whispers. It may be the warmth of this living being, but the way his words are delivered makes the warmth roll in waves.

“I still don't remember.” Reaper mumbles. “Whatever I know about myself is what you've shown me with this.” He indicates the ring by looking down at their hands, still unmoved. The ring continues to pulsate with red light like a beating heart on his middle finger.

Jack looks down as well and takes a moment to think. He notices that Reaper holds him with fingers curled tightly around him, but decides to say nothing about it. He thoughtfully draws his thumb on his cold hand. “This might be a stretch, but maybe it's on the wrong finger.”

“How would you know that?”

He looks up with those piercing blue eyes. The blue is so deep, that Reaper feels like he’ll be pulled down into their undercurrent. “If you're really Gabriel, then you only ever wore one ring. You might not remember, but it's very important to y—” He stops himself. “It was before, at least.” The warmth escapes but only for a moment. There is a pained look in his eyes when he glances off to the side. He could feel the man's heart sink. Jack's hand slips a little. Reaper wonders why he still doesn't let go.

“Will you let me show you?” Jack asks carefully. Ever so slightly, he grips Reaper's cold, lifeless hand tighter.

“...Fine.”

Jack Morrison grips tighter and they are taken back.

* * * * *

The silver of moonlight shines on their skin in the dark bedroom. 

A younger Jack lay in a tangle of silk sheets white and shimmering like sea foam and furs strewn about the messied bed in a daze. His heart is racing and his mind is blissfully blank as he stares into space. A light pant is on his barely grinning lips. His skin past his chin and below is littered in dark red bruises and a few fresh scratches. The feel of a gentle hand on his cheek takes him by surprise, but he feels too spent to do anything but find where it's coming from.

It's a younger Gabriel. The two don shiny golden rings on their left ring fingers. Gabriel lay beside him, propped up by one arm and gazing at him. Dark bruises litter his skin as well, especially on his thighs. Jack tries to hold the hand on his cheek, but his arms are too weak to reach. They flop down with a light _thud_.

“Had enough, Jackie?” A smooth voice asks teasingly as its owner traces a hand from a flushed cheek and slowly, playfully trails a pointer finger further down. Along the way, the finger traces past marks of varying colors and shapes. Some old and some new.

Jack looks like he's trying to respond, but instead he raises his brows and squints his eyes with a tired smile. He manages to let out a little grunt.

Gabriel chuckles at the sight of him and continues tracing around his body. “C’mon, _guapo_. Don't tell me I broke you,” he teases.

Gabriel’s hand winds its way lower and lower till he mercilessly grasps Jack, making him give a surprised moan as his body bucks up in response. “Gabe,” he sighs, still panting lightly. 

He laughs with a mischievous grin. “Had a good time? I know _I_ did.” He watches a pale hand make a weak thumbs up and instantly flop back down. Gabriel laughs endearingly at the sight.

Jack groans happily and curls into the other man.

“Damn, I really did a number on you if you're like _this_ ,” he says smugly. “The trick is to keep going even harder while you're c—”

A pair of lips sloppily silences him.

“Alright, alright. I'll give you some more love, Mister Needy.” He says after they break their kiss. He continues by planting more kisses on his cheek and lazing his way down to the bruises on his neck. After their bout of lazy kisses, Jack slowly reaches out.

“I got you,” Gabriel gently catches his hand and kisses it. He places it to his cheek and kisses his palm. “This right here. _This_ is what living is for. Just you and I, and no one else, Jack.” He speaks in a low rumble with tender reverence.

Jack softly smiles as he hums in agreement.

"You know, this one part of your hair in the back never lies flat,” Gabriel muses as he flicks a tuft of golden hair. He looks back into his eyes. “You know how beautiful you are, right? And your eyes… They really are an ocean, you know? They're such a deep blue, it's so easy to get lost in ‘em." A thumb caresses scarred copper skin with admiration and love. "If some bastard gets the high honor of offing me, I want you to put my ashes in the ocean. Then I'll always be lost in your eyes."

Jack squints and shakes his head. "Mmm, too corny. Not gonna happen." He mumbles as he tucks himself closer. Gabriel chuckles and rubs circles into his back.

"Alright, alright. Fine. But also, our super soldier DNA can probably be weaponized if it gets into the wrong hands,” he says quickly and gets a little swat on his bicep. “Yeah, yeah. Keeping the pillow talk mushy now. Just thinking of the 'till death do us part... part." He gives a little sigh. "I know you're kind of blissed out right now, but there's something I need to tell you.”

He hums back in response.

“So we've been a _little_ scandalous since day one and things haven't always been easy for us. Knowing our luck, it won't get any easier from here on out.” 

Jack snorts and they give each other a knowing look. “Not to mention, we just secretly tied the knot and I know the whole ‘kids, dogs, and a white picket fence’ thing is out of the question. But I still wanna do right by you. Are you with me?”

Jack nods intently, showing that he's listening.

He adjusts himself so that they are face to face laying on the bed. “No matter what happens, no matter what kind of shit life is gonna pull on us, I will _always_ love you, Jack Morrison. This ring isn't just for decoration. For me, this is solid proof of our bond. You're my other half whether you like it or not, Jackie.” Gabriel reaches for his cheek again and caresses it lovingly. 

He whispers something inaudible even to Reaper.

* * * * *

The two are brought back to the present. After seeing such an intimate moment, Reaper drowns in a mixture of warmth and pain that burns through his entire being. 

Jack doesn't look up from their lingering hold on each other.

Seconds pass in silence.

Then Reaper notices that Jack still hasn't let go. He notices the lack of light on their hands and the now darkened sky.

“Do you remember any of that?” Jack finally speaks. He asks so gently, that the warmth flares through Reaper's entire being with the speed of a heart skipping a beat.

He remains silent and stares at the hand which Jack seems to have no intention of releasing just yet.

...

“...He really loved you, didn't he?”

A sharp inhale. Reaper could feel the unintentionally caused wave of pain radiate from Jack.

Perhaps he really is just a shadow of the man he once was. 

He tries to let go, but there's a bit of a tug. Jack is still holding on, as if this could be the last time they ever touch. He only knows this from the look in the man's deep blue eyes asking him not to let go.

“You still don't remember?” The mortal's voice sounds as if he is being suffocated by his pain. Still, there is a glimmer of hope somewhere in those deep blue eyes.

How very mortal, to still hope with such reckless abandon.

“...Your theory about the ring makes some sense.” Reaper calmly places another hand over the mortal's. “Let me try it, then.”

And how very unlike death itself to have such hope as well.

It takes a moment, but Jack reluctantly lets go.

Reaper looks down at the glowing ring and grips it as it pulsates a more brilliant red than before. The more he pulls on it, the brighter it glows.

He slips the ring off. In the blink of an eye, he has vanished into thin air along with his dark smoke.

“Gabriel?!” Jack calls out, almost panicked. Was this it? Did he lose him for good this time? This couldn't be it, could it? _Please..._

Then without warning, he reappears. He releases his grip on the bright red ring which is now switched from his middle to his ring finger. His gaze doesn’t move from his hand and he is still, seemingly frozen in the space he takes up.

“Oh, thank g—” 

A gunshot goes off in the distance. Jack’s eyes narrow as he looks around for the source. 

A second later, the alarms go off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a rumor that the heart is directly connected to the ring finger through a vein called the vena amoris, and that’s why people place their wedding bands on that specific finger. But the heart is actually indirectly connected by the superior vena cava. So the rumor is BS. The more you know.  
> But in this case, we’re using that sentiment ✨for the drama.✨


	11. Though I Walk Through The Valley of The Shadow of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨🎄 Merry Crisis! 🎄✨
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> Mentions of violence

The mortal known as Jack Morrison has run off into the night.

Reaper silently follows, watching as Jack attempts to figure out the situation. After asking the scrambling agents, he finds out that the town next to the base is being attacked by a large group of omnics. Overwatch agents are exiting the base en masse to help the Spanish civilians. Even Jack leaves the base, armed with his mask, leather jacket, and pulse rifle. He notices that Jack only has one more of those yellow cans left on him.

He watches the mortals as they struggle. Bound by their self-made rules and suffering from their mortal limitations. Why the conflict started is none of his concern. He simply follows as he knows he should. 

The Reaper catches sight of a few others like himself. He now wonders about who they used to be when they were alive.

* * * * *

Jack is fighting again. Reaper knows he should watch closely, but part of him knows he shouldn't have to worry.

Wait...

_Worrying?_ That's not like him. He shouldn't even be capable of emotions, nonetheless _worrying_. But then he looks to the ring and thinks about what Jack said. Maybe he was right about being able to feel all along. And this unexpected assignment to Jack, of all mortals, couldn't have been a coincidence.

Speaking of which, he should be watching and waiting… 

Waiting for his husband to  _ die? _

_... _

What kind of sick joke is this?! 

If he really is Jack F. Morrison’s Gabriel Reyes, then who the hell signed him up for such a cruel situation? He stops to think for a moment. 

The ring pulsates.

_ Oh. _

Reaper stops in his tracks. 

Then the warmth rushes in once more, except it's a bit different now. What was this feeling called again? He knows what it is, but its notion is just out of his grasp.

But then a presence in the distance steals away his attention. 

The Reaper… No. Gabriel sees a familiar sight in the distance: Talon forces. But why here? Why would they attack the town and not the base itself? They're a terrorist organization, but they're far from reckless. There's something else they're after. Or maybe someone…?

He looks to Jack, who is fighting alongside a man in a cowboy hat and red serape. The years have changed him, but not enough to make him unrecognizable.

Fighting near him is an omnic. No, a cyborg. That blade of his looks familiar. His chrome armor glows bright green and covers his entire body now, but that skillset and voice is hard to mistake for anyone else. That cyborg is most certainly Genji Shimada.

Not too far away is a young woman in a suit of blue flying armor. She looks like an eagle, soaring so gallantly through the sky. Shooting rockets at enemy aircraft with precision and acquired skill above the water.

The enemies that they fight are mostly omnic, some organic. 

He looks back to the two.

“McCree’s six. Above,” he calls out without a second thought. Jack whips himself around and shoots an omnic about to jump Jesse from his blind spot.

Jesse whistles with an impressed look on his face. “Not bad. Thanks for the save!” He briefly tips his hat. Jack nods to Jesse and then to thin air, leaving the cowboy to do a double take.

Still, the battle continues. 

Considering the conditions, there is no need to be concerned for Jack's wellbeing. He fights like a seasoned soldier and leads like the skilled commander that he remembers. This is nothing new compared to what Jack had been through before, so there is time to analyze the whole situation. Reaper surveys the area, then keeps an eye on the sources of the enemies’ approach. It seems that only a few Talon drop ships were deployed. 

But why so few?

Looking around further, he sees a familiar blue face lined up with a sniper rifle. She hangs from an aircraft with a cord like a spider sliding down its web.

“Widowmaker.” He whispers in surprise. That's what her associates would call her. A deadly assassin with frightening accuracy. He witnessed her gruesome origin and had collected from her trail of death ever since. The widow’s presence could only mean that Talon really wants someone dead.

He hopes it isn’t who he suspects it is.

* * * * *

The fight continues.

Talon is losing its grip on the victory, but Reaper keeps watch over the enemy forces anyway. It's thanks to his reconnaissance and Jack’s direction that Talon hasn't succeeded in whatever pursuit they are aiming towards.

“ _ Jack _ ,” he speaks to a panting old soldier whose pulse rifle is running low on ammo. It's quiet for now. The Talon aircrafts have retreated and the last of the enemies are being rounded up. Time for a breather, so Jack takes off his mask. The sky is dark and the stars shine brightly in the sky. Street lamps illuminate the broken town by the sea in soft golden light.

“Good job so far,” he says as he takes his mask off. “It's been ages since someone's had my back like that. How nostalgic,” he speaks softly with a small smile. “Wait, so you rememb—”

“ _ Jack, we need to talk. _ ” The hooded being floats towards him in a cloud of smoke. “ _ Something about this situation is— _ ”

McCree is the only one to notice that Jack's eyes are wandering. No, not wandering. He looks where Jack does, but there's nothing particularly interesting about the street corner he's staring at. His brows furrow when he sees that Jack's eyes follow something that isn't there.

“Boss,” Jesse takes a step forward. Jack and Gabriel both turn to him at the same time. “Are you okay there?”

Blue eyes go wide with surprise for a moment, as if he were caught red-handed. “I'm okay. No need to worry.” he says reassuringly.

“ _ Jesse...” _ a gravelly, metallic voice exclaims softly to unhearing ears. He takes notice of the prosthetic arm and wonders about it. But Gabriel remembers to focus and turns to whisper in Jack’s ear, “ _ Jack, you need to know about— _ ” 

“No offense, but the way you're acting’s got me a bit worried.” The other man approaches. “You told me earlier that weird things’ve been happening with you. You sure you're okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Jack responds. “They're happening  _ to _ me, Jesse. Not  _ with _ me.” He shakes his head. “I haven't gone insane just yet,” he says reassuringly.

McCree begins to speak, but is unknowingly being talked over.

“ _ He needs to know too, _ ” the rough voice whispers again. “ _ Amélie Lacroix is somewhere here. She killed Gérard and works as a Talon sniper called Widowmaker. _ ” Jack glances in Gabriel's direction for a brief second, trying to retain his shock. 

But it doesn't get past Jesse.

“Jack? What're you not telling me?” He puts a hand to his pistol and checks out the direction Jack shot a worried look towards.

“ _ Tell him. He needs to know too. _ ”

Jack sighs. “It's not over yet. Amélie Lacroix. She's somewhere around here working as a Talon sniper.” His deep blue eyes dart around in the darkness of the now quiet town. “She's the one who killed Gérard.”

Jesse turns to Jack with surprise. “But his wife's been missin’ for years.” He squints at Jack. “How’d you know she did it...?” His voice sounds wary now. 

Jack looks to Gabriel and then back to Jesse. 

“ _ I saw her kill him myself. He died in his sleep. _ ” The voice whispers again, deciding to omit how he also took him to the Light.

“You wouldn't believe me,” Jack sighs and glances to the specter with a grim look in his eyes.

“Oh yeah?” McCree’s arms are crossed. “Try me.”

“Just trust me, Jesse. We need to tell the others ASAP. Do you have your communicator on you? Mine’s kind of…” He pulls the shattered earpiece out of his pocket and dangles it between his fingers. 

Jesse squints at the old soldier and turns on his com, attempting to relay the information with uncertainty in his voice. All the while, he keeps his eyes on Jack.

“ _ Always so stubborn, _ ” Gabriel says with something akin to a sigh. Jack shoots a ‘that was unnecessary’ glance and stops himself, trying to contain the joy of these forgotten gestures now retained only by muscle memory.

Jesse finishes the message and crosses his arms again. “Okay, Jack. We’re not leavin’ until you tell me what exactly is happenin’ to ya.”

Gabriel groans. “ _ Get going, Jesse! She’s out there! _ ” He roars with his steely voice. Jack tries to stifle a laugh into a fake sneeze. “ _ You know what, just tell him about me. I don’t care. I’ll go find her myself. _ ” He whispers into Jack’s ear. Jack shudders, even though he doesn’t feel the Reaper’s words on his skin.

Jack watches with a barely contained grin as the grumbling reaper zips off in a cloud of smoke. He turns back to Jesse. “Remember when I said I’d drag Gabriel out by the ear if I found him lurking around?”

He gives Jack a very concerned look.

* * * * *

Reaper floats around the town with an unearthly speed. His black smoke fills the vicinity like a dark hurricane, paying no mind to the others like him that float around. He asks if any of them have seen the blue-skinned widow, but to no avail. _ Just a bit longer,  _ he thinks. She’s currently the biggest threat and if she’s gone, he won’t have to worry about Jack.

Maybe this was his forgotten task. Maybe he was meant to watch out for Jack in this form of his. He may not remember much, or what led them to this point, but he’s certain about one thing: he won’t let Jack Morrison die on his watch.

While scanning the town, Gabriel thinks on what moments Jack had shown him. He wonders about his own final moments through Jack’s memories and then the moment where their memories melded together on the ship. The vision of himself pushing Jack out of a window was his last memory before he died. If that's the case, then...

Something doesn’t add up. 

Why would he try to kill his own husband and then in the next moment desperately try to save him from the explosion? Even now in this situation, it was almost the same. He can’t remember or even think of a reason why he would ever wish for Jack Morrison’s death.

So what  _ really _ happened ten years ago?

He tries to summon anything he can about it, but comes to a blank. It's no surprise, for his memories are only slowly surfacing from their frozen slumber like waking plants in the spring: sparse and enervated. Every familiar person and thing he sees brings vague memories that multiply like a drop of rain rippling in water. But why can’t he remember one of the most important details of his life—or rather—death?

Either way, he would be okay with this. Watching over Jack for the rest of his mortal life. Maybe even protecting him from harm. Maybe this is what was meant to be.  _ But for how long? _ He wonders. If Jack had survived a lot longer than his initial expiration date, how much more would fate allow?

His thoughts are thrown off track by a sudden feeling, or lack thereof. He notices that the further he gets from the mortal, the colder he feels again.

It’s so easy to forget how cold it usually feels when Jack is not around.

* * * * *

A few more miles and he finds the widow.

She is unaware of his presence just like every other time. The look in her eyes like liquid gold is cold and lifeless. She speaks into her communicator in code as she surveys the area. 

He goes behind her to see where her next shot is lining up. 

* * * * *

“So you’re tellin’ me Reyes’ ghost or something is around… And has been following you for the past few days waitin’ for you to die…?” 

Jesse asks as the two men walk around the emptied town assessing the damage of the attack. 

“Basically, yeah. He’s saved me a few times, though. It’s not the first time he let his emotions make him bad at his job.” The man fondly chuckles to himself.

From the way Jack speaks, Jesse can tell he wholeheartedly believes what he’s saying. The younger man stops in his tracks with a look of pity in his eyes. “Jack...” He speaks in a soft tone and removes his hat. “With all due respect, I reckon you might be delusional. What's dead ain't never coming back. We even talked earlier about how he's been gone for years. Do you remember that?”

Jack gives a resolute sigh. “Yeah, I don’t blame you for not believing me. At the beginning of this week, I wouldn’t have believed myself either.” The man almost gives a smile, but his eye catches something.

“He’s here,” Jack quickly whispers to Jesse as he perks up. His excited eyes follow something, but Jesse can’t tell what.

“ _ Jack. Bad news, _ ” whispers an incoming dark cloud. “ _ It was a distraction. You need to go back to base right now, there isn’t much time! _ ” His ragged voice rips through the air.

Jesse watches as Jack seems to be listening to thin air. The look on his face is convincing enough, if thin air could actually talk.

“You’re tellin’ me that Reyes’ ghost is here…?” Jesse looks around skeptically. Jack’s expression drops immediately at whatever he may be hearing.

There’s a grim expression on the old soldier’s face as he turns back to him. “Jesse, I need you to tell everyone at base to evacuate immediately. Talon planted a bomb and I know where it is. We’ve got about…” He looks to the side as if listening for an answer, “About 18 minutes.”

“What?!”

“Don’t follow me,” Jack wags a finger and turns to run off into the night. 

“Jack, wait!” McCree holds out a hand to stop the man, but Jack Morrison is already fleeing the area with an inhuman speed. “Damned super soldier genes,” he groans.

* * * * *

Jack Morrison runs past the evacuating Overwatch agents.

On the way in, he is caught by the shoulder with a tight grip. “Jack, where’s the bomb planted?” Her dark brown eye glares frantically into his.

“Ana, you need to go! There isn’t much time!” 

“ _ Ana, _ ” Gabriel stops in his tracks as well. He speaks softly. “ _ I thought she was dead…? _ ”

“Jack, I’m going to help you.” She demands sternly. 

The man sighs. “Okay, fine.” He indicates the way they’re headed and briefs her on the situation and where the bomb’s detonator is.

“And how do you know all of this? Especially with your broken communicator?” She squints at him as she matches his pace.

“You probably won’t believe me.”

“Try me.”

The two sigh, already knowing the extent of her relentlessness. “ _ Just tell her. Also, what happened to her eye? _ ”

“She was shot.” He turns to Gabriel briefly. 

Ana squints again, a bit confused. “Jack, who are you talking to?”

“Gabriel is here,” he simply says.

“What?!” She looks around and almost stops running. “Jack, what do you mean by that? He's been dead for years.”

“I know,” he nods. “He’s still dead, but he’s…  _ here _ . It’s a long story. But trust me on this, okay?” He decides to spare her the heavy details.

Ana shoots him a worried look, but continues on their path. 

* * * * *

Eventually, they come to a stop near the cliff where Jack and the Reaper had last met. “It was planted somewhere on this cliff during the raid. It's remotely activated with the others scattered around here, so I'll just need the detonator. It’s a little dark, so I’d appreciate you keeping an eye out for me. Jesse’s out looking for Amélie.”

“So it’s true? She’s here?” Ana has a pensive look on her face as she places a hand on her eyepatch. “You know she’s the one who shot my eye out, right?”

“I remember. Are you planning on a rematch with her?” He nudges her playfully. 

Ana rolls her eye and chuckles. “No. But if she shows up, I wouldn’t hesitate to hunt her down and find out why she’s caused all this grief.”

“Fair enough,” he nods.

“ _ Ten minutes, Jack. _ ” Gabriel reminds him. “ _ It’s hidden on this side here. _ ” He points with a metallic talon.

“Shit, right. Sorry. Bomb.” Jack nods to thin air. He turns to Ana again. “Gabriel says ‘hi,’ by the way. He was surprised by the eyepatch. Also, would either of you happen to know how to diffuse a detonator?”

She looks at him skeptically. Probably because of how casual his tone was. “So  _ this _ is what Jesse was saying. You seemed fine earlier, but you’ve finally lost it, haven’t you, Jack?” They hear the pity in her tone.

“Oh great, now you too.” Jack sighs. “Look, believe me or not, there’s still a bomb somewhere on this cliff and I'm gonna diffuse it before the watchpoint ends up like the Swiss base.” He pulls out the wire clippers he got along the way and squeezes them a couple times for emphasis.

While they talk, Reaper looks around the area. The calming sound of the ocean waves in the night is a stark contrast to the weight of the situation. The warmth he feels from being near Jack is different now. It’s combined with an anxious ache, constantly wondering if this bomb is what will be the end of him, and maybe even more people he cared about in life. 

He looks down to the glowing red ring. Most reapers probably aren’t capable of worrying, but reaper R-34937 most certainly is.

* * * * *

“Ana, is that you?” A southern accent. “Is Jack there?”

“Jesse?” The trio asks in unison. The man waves his metallic arm in the air as he jogs towards them. He reaches them panting.

“Hey,” Jack waves from behind a large rock. “Bomb’s right here. Might wanna be careful.”

“How’d ya find it so quick?”

“Like I said, Gabriel told me.” He says as he continues working on the detonator.

Jesse looks to Ana incredulously. She shrugs back. “Can’t argue with that. Doesn’t look like he’s a sleeper agent or anything weird. We will have to take his word for it.”

“Thanks. Good to know you still got my back, Ana.” Jack calls out. “Alright, let’s not die tonight,” he speaks calmly despite the unrelenting fear Reaper can sense from him. The man is sweating as he tries to slow his breathing to a normal pace and calm down. “Please tell me this ain't it for me,” Jack whispers under his breath to Gabriel.

But Gabriel doesn't know, so he stays by his side, anxiously watching him pry open the detonator panel.

“Also, Widowmaker ain’t where y’all said she was. I reckon she either changed positions or hightailed outta here.”

“ _ Dammit, _ ” Reaper looks to Jack. “ _ I’ll be back. Stay sharp till then. _ ” his steely voice whispers before he floats off to search for the widow.

Jack frowns after the cloud of smoke quickly floating away and filling the space around it. The other two mortals notice Jack's staring and look at each other, still a bit unsure of what to make of the situation.

* * * * *

A dark cloud of smoke seeps around rock and metallic structure.

Its dark tendrils reach, climb and move swiftly in search of a certain mortal woman. Every second to this being once felt like sand slipping between his fingers, so small and inconsequential. Now, every second to him weighs heavily like a shouldered yoke. How ephemeral mortals are with their seconds plummeting them closer and closer to death. Do they even realize life as it happens?

Seconds.

More seconds. 

Where is she? 

There, atop the rocks and buildings. Had he been mortal, it would have taken him much longer to find her. The one known as “Widowmaker” crouches on the ground with her shot lined up. The Reaper takes on his humanoid form once more. He examines the mortal that is strange enough to look like one of his own with her blue skin and eyes like liquid gold. Perhaps they too are similar: shadows of the people they once were. 

He examines where she is stationed and looks around. He sees where her scope and rifle points.

Had he a heart, it would sink. Had he mortal skin, it would be drenched in sweat. Had he mortal lungs, his breaths would be shallow. Through the scope, Gabriel sees a face that he wishes he didn’t.

What could he do? Could he get there in time? There’s only one way to find out, so he begins to dissolve himself into a cloud once more. 

“ _ Nope! _ Not so fast.” 

He stops, still remaining in his humanoid form. An unmistakable voice.

To his right, a different woman stands there in her suit dark like shadow, and violet fingernails falling in a cascade to greet him like the feathered wings neatly folding behind her back into nothing. A grin is on her violet lips.

“Sombra?”

A sight he never thought he would see. The suited woman —or whatever she is— is away from the Desk and here with him in the mortal realm for once. Behind her, the ocean has come to a halt. The plant life beneath their feet does not sway, for there is no breeze. Even the widow before them is still like a marble statue.

“ _ Hola, señor protagonista. _ Miss me?” Sombra asks playfully.

He watches warily as she steadily walks to him. Her gait is smooth, as if she is gliding through space and the walking motion is only for show.

“Been a while since you left in a hurry. I’m assuming you figured it out, Mr. R. I’ve been getting complaints from the higher ups and _ boy _ , are they pissed.” Her form goes right through the stilled widow to stand before the Reaper. “Now do us both a favor and tell me the truth. How much does he know? And did he tell anyone?”

The Reaper tries to move, but is frozen along with their surroundings and only finding the capacity to speak.

“You’re not going anywhere till I get answers.” Her arms are crossed. “How much does Jack Morrison know about your situation?”

“Enough to know I was specifically assigned to him. He told a few mortals about me, but they don't seem to believe him.” She looks him up and down for a second with appraising violet eyes and continues.

“And how much does he know about you?”

“The ring helped us figure it out.”

Sombra frowns. “Hm. That explains why he’s still alive. You keep saving him with the ring, don’t you?” She sighs. “You weren’t supposed to save him, you know. And mortals aren't supposed to learn about our System. I talked with the higher-ups and they filled me in. They knew giving the ring privileges would be a big gamble. The ring was supposed to return your memories only after he died. I guess they didn't consider how deep your bond was or how that would make your shared memories resonate. Or even touch, for that matter.” A sharp pointer finger pats her chin. “Or how much you'd take advantage.” She crosses her arms and sighs. “Always doing the most, Mr. R.” She chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“You still don’t remember your contract or how you got it at all, do you, you workaholic?” A slit eyebrow is raised. “I guess working as much as you did can really take a toll on you. Well, this is the part where I do  _ my _ job.” She snaps her fingers and they hear the crash of the tides again. The wind brushes through the surrounding plant life and the widow moves again. “Don’t you dare try anything this time,” Sombra says. “You know, we had multiple chances lined up. But you  _ didn’t take them _ .” She emphasizes the last three words.

“Let me help him, Sombra.” Gabriel demands with his steely voice.

“No can do.”

“ _ Please!  _ I'll redo my contract, just let me help him!”

She does a double take and then focuses on the bright red ring. “Wow, that thing really did a number on you, didn’t it, lover boy?”

“Sombra—”

“I said  _ no _ . You two have interfered with the balance enough already.” Sombra’s tone is authoritative as she effortlessly keeps her invisible grip on him. She sighs again. “Plus, it's too late to go back now. I’m trying to help you out here, y’know. His soul needs to be out of his body by  _ tomorrow _ .”

“And if it isn't?” He challenges.

“If you blow this last one, they’ll make it so you  _ never _ see him again.” She wags a finger at the Reaper. “But I have a soft spot for you and your situation. Also, this is my Valley, so I'll salvage whatever I can.” She looks towards where reaper R-34937 is focused. “I’m sorry I have to be the one to do it, but _ this _ —” she snaps her fingers and points to the widow, “—is what happens when you choose not to do your job.”

The widow fires her sniper rifle.

“ _ JACK! _ ” He calls out to no avail. Reaper tries to move, but the angel’s hold on him remains solid.

Sombra turns her head back to Reaper with a frown. “While that fight’s happening, shall I help you remember yourself, Mr. R?” The Administrator comes closer and slips his mask off. She takes a second to see the face hidden behind it. “ _ There _ he is!” She says with observant interest. Then with her free hand, Sombra reaches a finger into his dark hood.

“ _ Boop! _ ” 

* * * * *

“Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me...” (Psalm 23:4)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ❤️ ✨ 🎄 MERRY CRISIS 🎄 ✨ ❤️
> 
> "Sombra" means "Shadow," in Spanish just in case any of you didn't know.
> 
> Also, I won't be posting another chapter till next year. Stay safe, everyone! ❤️


	12. If There is Some Other Way to Prove That I Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ✨ Happy new year, everyone! ✨
> 
> WARNINGS:  
> ✨Mentions of violence, death, and descriptions of graphic injuries  
> ✨Art warning: Depiction of graphic injuries and blood  
> ✨Overall, this chapter is just Spain without the 'S,' but very important. We get to find out what really happened!
> 
> Also, here's a song to accompany the chapter:  
> [The Night We Met by Lord Huron](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KtlgYxa6BMU)

“Ghosts are guilt, ghosts are secrets, ghosts are regrets and failings. But most times… a ghost is a wish.”

― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

* * * * *

“Gabe, _please_! This isn’t you!”

A blond, blue-eyed man pleads breathlessly as he tosses his pulse rifle to the floor. The two are ragged and bloody from fighting each other. There are tears in Jack’s eyes. He obviously cares for the man before him, despite the fact that the same man silently aims a shotgun at his chest. 

_‘Oh,’_ _the Reaper utters. ‘I’ve seen this before.’_

No response. There is a silent, focused rage in Gabriel’s eyes as he aims again. “Why won’t you talk to me?!” Jack's voice breaks in desperation. Still no response. 

_‘Wait...’_ _he turns to Sombra._

“Look at us, look what we’re doing!” Jack speaks breathlessly. He takes off his left glove and holds up his hand. “Does this ring mean nothing, then?!”

_He looks longingly at the ring. ‘Jack showed me this moment, but this can’t be right.’_

_‘Hm? Why not?’ Sombra asks._

_‘My memories are coming back and I can recognize things, but I don’t remember this.’_

_She turns to him with a puzzled expression. ‘But this was you. This is the past as it happened, Gabriel.’_

_He remains silent. He continues to observe this version of himself that he can't seem to recognize._

Gabriel seems like he knows what he's doing, but there is something different about his eyes. He is focused, but he doesn’t look like he’s all there. Upon further inspection, a ring the color of liquid gold is around his strained eyes.

“All those years ago, you promised—”

_‘There’s something wrong. I don’t remember doing any of this!’_

Gabriel’s resolve wavers as he pauses to stare at the wedding band on Jack’s hand along with his pleading eyes. He simply stands there, staring. He seems transfixed on Jack’s eyes as if he is fighting something that posesses him.

Something within the man seems to switch off.

Gabriel drops his shotgun and grasps his head. He grips his hat and rips it off, tossing it to the side. Gritting his teeth, he groans in agony as he holds his head once more. He takes in a sharp gasp and exhales a shuddering, unsteady breath, trying to get ahold of himself.

“Gabe?” From the sound of Jack's voice, they could tell how shaken he is. Even so, he looks concerned, unsure if he should approach. 

“Don’t—” Gabriel snarls, holding a hand out to stop him, but still gripping his head with the other. He takes a moment before he glances up at Jack. His eyes are still reddened, but the golden ring has faded. The pain and confusion are clear to see through the tears pooling in his bloodshot eyes.

Before anything else could be spoken, the sound of a _beep_ chimes off from somewhere nearby.

_‘That's right, this part...’ He whispers._

A look of realization flashes in Gabriel’s eyes. He looks around frantically, as if he is trying to remember something. A wide range of emotions are displayed on his face in mere seconds, as if he is looking for an answer.

The _beep_ goes off again. And again. And again, but more frequently and rapidly this time. It doesn't stop.

What will he do?

He looks directly at his answer.

“ _JACK!!!_ ” Gabriel screams with one final, desperate lunge. He grabs Jack by the shoulders as he pushes him towards the window, shattering the glass. Jack falls from the building as the Swiss base is engulfed in flame, smoke and rubble.

This right here, _this_ was it. He remembers now. Just like the moment when he last gripped Jack by the shoulders to save him. Jack was right. Old habits really die hard, don't they?

_‘Why,_ ’ he wonders as he watches his life go up in flames. _Why did it have to end like this?_

* * * * *

It all began, or rather, _ended_ with an explosion.

Nothing but fire and thick, black smoke fills the night sky on the ruins of the site once known as the Swiss headquarters of Overwatch. It is uncertain how much time it takes, but they finally see a figure emerging from the dark smoke.

However, the figure is not of the mortal plane. It is in fact, a reaper. The sound of her chainsaw revs. She slices her scythe, severing the red tie between the soul and its mortal coil. Nearby is another reaper, floating around looking for its own assignment. 

More mortal time passes.

The smoke clears and they finally see him. The man looks shaken up and dazed, as if he had just woken up from passing out or worse. He stumbles around and coughs heavily. Black soot covers him from head to toe. Dark tears stream down his bloodied face that has two large, fresh gashes that haven’t stopped bleeding. The shirt he wore earlier is partially singed away. The rest of his body is riddled with wounds, pieces of glass, and debris protruding from his skin, which he seems to pay no mind to. There is a particularly large slash on his chest that looks like something was in it earlier. Even the eyes of a dead man could tell it should have bled him out by now. Deep blue eyes are hazy as he continues to stagger around the ash and ruins.

_A walking corpse_ , they think. It's hard to look at, but they watch intently.

Jack looks in Sombra and the Reaper’s direction. His eyes widen. It seems like something is wrong with his leg as he limps in their direction. Jack pants as he raggedly makes his way over, occasionally stopping to cough out blood and ash. When he finally makes it over, he falls to his knees.

“ _No_ , no, no, no….” Jack croaks out in a raspy voice and coughs again. There is a pile of rubble with something peeking out from beneath it that must be familiar to him. Looking at the fallen pieces, no ordinary person should be able to push them away, but Jack doesn’t let it stop him. 

It takes a while, but he finally clears the way through the rubble. What Jack sees beneath it leaves him with a gaunt expression. Had he not been dirtied with ash and debris, he would have looked white like a sheet.

Jack carefully reaches for him. “ _Gabriel_ ,” he whimpers as he places a careful hand near the man’s pierced chest that no longer moves. 

Judging by the look on Jack's face, he really _wasn’t_ so lucky this time around. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” Jack frantically utters again and again, trying so hard not to accept that this ruin and this husk of the man he loves are his reality now. “ _Please,_ ” he weakly whispers before he lets out another heavy cough.

Gabriel’s body—or rather, what’s left of it—is a gruesome sight. But it doesn’t stop Jack from carefully pulling him into his battered arms. He tries to gently wipe the ash from his face with his thumb as he weeps. It’s not much use, for there is too much of it on them. “ _Gabe_ ,” Jack finally breaks out into sobs.

Jack tucks his forehead into the crook of Gabriel’s neck as Reaper knew Jack would whenever he sought comfort. There would be no coming back from this, not this time. There would be nobody around to help, nobody to ground him and tell him it’ll be okay like he needed. Not anymore, at least. 

The ghastly wails from this living ghost are heard by no others on the mortal plane.

They do, however, draw the attention of a confused soul who had been wandering around, unsure of what to make of the situation he was suddenly thrown into.

* * * * *

The spirit finally finds his way through the dark smoke and rubble. “Jack…?” is the first thing he asks. The man is barely recognizable in all the wreckage.

“Look at us, Gabe. What—what happened to us?” He hoarsely whispers almost as if he is pleading for a response. Jack’s eyes are hollowed out with confusion and grief tangled into one twisted expression. There is no way to take Gabriel’s left hand, so Jack takes his right hand and places it on his own cheek. “You’re so cold, Gabriel…” His forehead wrinkles and he begins to sob again.

“Jack?!” The ghost of Gabriel Reyes watches in despair. He tries to call to him, to reach out, but he finds that he cannot see the left side of himself. “What the hell happened?!” He screams and desperately darts his head around, beyond shocked and confused. A cloud of blood-red smoke coalesces next to him and he flinches. It turns into a red-haired woman with a faceless, white mask.

“You are dead, Gabriel Reyes.” It speaks in a deep voice without emotion. “You must go,” the reaper says as she indicates a portal of blinding white light in the distance. 

He hadn’t noticed it till now. It is a gentle, quiet light. Something about it draws him to it like a warm fire on a cold winter day. He feels himself turn and take a step towards it. Whatever had him upset had started to melt away the moment he gazed upon the Light. It feels comforting, like falling into the arms of someone he cares about. _Someone he cares about._

_Wait._

He had almost forgotten. _Almost._

With difficulty, Gabriel manages to tear away his gaze. He sees where he is and remembers.

_Jack._

_The ruins of the Swiss headquarters._

All of the rage and anguish returns to him in a swift, violent instant. He turns away from the direction of the Light.

“Wait! No no no no. What are you talking about?!” He yells. “Do you not see this?! How the hell did this happen?! How did I die?! I don’t even remember being here!!!” He turns to Jack and calls out to him again, eventually breaking into a sob.

“You must go,” she says flatly. 

“I don’t care, fuck off!” He growls.

“So you choose to stay?” She asks, unaffected by the ferocity of his words.

“Yeah, now leave me alone!” He snaps at her. She doesn’t respond, but she pulls out a list on her arm and slides his name away. Another name is bumped up and fills the empty space. Along with the Light, she disappears in an instant.

And so Gabriel stays.

He continues to do so, even after Jack is long gone and he realized he couldn't follow. He finds that he cannot leave this place, so he has no choice but to linger. He stays even though no living soul dares to enter the ruins anymore.

He is approached by many reapers time and time again. Different masks, but all the same message. All given the same response. Some wait a few hours. Sometimes a day. Once in a while, he tries asking them what’s on the other side of the Light. They have no answer for him, so he resists and refuses to go. Eventually, each one gets impatient and leaves.

Time passes as it does, and eventually they stop appearing.

He wonders if Jack will ever come back. He doesn’t expect it, for who would ever want to return to such a wretched place after all that had happened here? 

Even so, he wants nothing more than to see him again. Just once. Even if Jack doesn’t know he’s there. His ache for the man gnaws at him as he can do nothing but linger.

He tries to leave again and again, but he is part of the ruins as much as the ruins are part of the earth now.

So he simply stays there, a disheveled, marred thing. Haunting the very place he died in. Stuck in the mortal realm, but not quite part of it. Full of regret, confusion, and indignation at such a cruel fate that befell him. Most of all, he feels the overwhelming longing for the only person he can think of. It hurts so much, that he hopes this feeling will eventually eat him up and fade him into oblivion instead.

But it doesn't. 

* * * * *

The relentless flow of nature continues around him as he is stuck to these deserted grounds. 

Being dead in the world of the living makes sunrise and sunset go unnoticed in this thick, dreary state of existence. There is no body to tire and no way to feel the earth's rhythms. Without these things, he begins to lose sense of time and idly passes the seconds wondering what it was all for.

Until one sunrise. 

Or at least, he thought it was a sunrise. Something about this one is off. It flashed in too quickly, too brightly.

Gabriel looks up and the sky is still dark. He turns around to see a young girl that stands up to his waist. She stands before him dressed in a white camisole and a long, flowing skirt that sits at her midsection. There are no shoes on her feet, but she is adorned with golden jewelry on every appendage. A golden headdress adorns her dark, braided hair strung with shining golden beads. Her irises are pure black like a light-consuming void. She is certainly not of this realm, yet she doesn't wear a mask like the others. Her skin is dark like burnt umber with big white dots painted around her eyes. Though she is small in stature, she has a towering presence.

“ _Gabriel Reyes_ ,” she says calmly. Her voice is strong and certain like an ocean wave with a powerful undercurrent. “ _I have heard much about you._ ” She speaks each word with intention and an accent that even his well-traveled ears have never heard before. Her dark eyes hold no emotion, but her gaze grips his entire being in its unrelenting grasp as if he is a small creature at the mercy of a curious child.

He is taken aback by her. Her presence is delicate, yet so strong and overwhelming. “Wh-who are you?” He finally brings himself to ask. 

“ _Your kind has many names for me,_ ” she does not break eye contact and is unaffected by his attempt to look away. Though her stature is small, she casts a notably large shadow that he cannot see the end of. He can almost make out the inhuman shape of multiple large, feathery wings in her wake, but his gaze is drawn back to her dark eyes like a dying star to a black hole. “ _I have sent countless of my reapers for you and yet you refuse each one. Why do you refuse to leave this world, Gabriel Reyes?_ ”

He is a bit dumbfounded, but her message was clearly received. 

“...I want answers.” He manages. “The people who came by said I did this, but I don't remember.” He indicates the grown-over ruins. “Is it true?”

“ _I do not oversee the realm of the living, so I cannot answer. Remaining here will not give what you seek._ ” Her eyes continue to pierce him with their gaze.

“Then are you here to take me?”

“ _No. Even I cannot make you go._ ” She approaches him further and he feels her divinity scorch him like the heat of the sun. _“What else will it take for you to come to the Light, Gabriel Reyes?”_ The radiance of the bright light surrounding her flares, causing the mortal's soul to quake.

Gabriel furrows his brow and glances to the ground before he looks back up to her. “ _Jack._ ” The name is softly spoken and bittersweet on his destroyed lips. Had he a mortal body left, he would have crumbled like damp paper. “I want to see him.” He dares to look into her eyes, despite the raw power flooding from them.

“ _Your_ ‘ _Jack’ is not among the dead. He remains in the realm of the living._ ” This brings a wave of relief over Gabriel’s being. _“But too far from your reach now.”_

“I won't go without him,” he dares, not breaking eye contact. He looks for any change in expression, but it feels like her eyes will swallow him before he gets a reply.

“ _You will go to the Light once you reunite with him, then?_ ” She pauses for confirmation. “ _There is a way to get what you want._ ” Gabriel almost opens his mouth to talk, but is interrupted. “ _Wretched little soul, I have use for you yet._ ” She lifts her left hand, indicating him to give her his in return. “ _You will reap for me._ ”

He looks at her with uncertainty, knowing he has no left arm to lift.

“ _Lift your left hand,_ ” she says without hesitation. He looks down and sees his missing pieces form from black smoke with bright red eyes scattered in its flow. Eventually, he makes out the shape of his own hand from the smoke. On his left ring finger is his wedding band that was destroyed.

She looks at it with interest. “ _Your hand.”_

Steadily, he grasps her tiny hand with his own. A powerful jolt of energy surges through him and the ring is slipped off his finger and into her palm. He is left shaken and drained as she stands unaffected, only taking interest in the tiny golden ring that she now holds. She closes it in her fist and it glows a bright red when she opens it again. “ _This is your collateral. Half your soul and memories._ ” She indicates the ring and closes it in her fist. “ _You will have it back when the time comes. For now, you will take instruction from my Shadow._ ” 

Before he can speak, she holds up a palm that closes his mouth again. “ _Now go._ ”

With two words, he is engulfed in light and disappears from where he once stood.

* * * * *

“And the rest is history.” Sombra says as they are brought back to the present. She removes her finger from his forehead and takes a look at him. “You okay, there, Mr. R?” She waits for a response.

He remains silent.

“It's a lot, I know. My boss is always... intense like that. _Archangels_ .” Sombra says with a shrug. She looks to him for a response, but there is none. “You should see the look on your face now, _Gabe_.” The Shadow chuckles as she places the mask back on him.

He is stunned, but the mention of his nickname snaps him back to reality. He makes a sound akin to a sharp inhale. “I need to find him!” He exclaims with an urgency that raises a slit brow.

“Don't worry, I'll let you go. Just answer one more thing.”

He sharply turns his head to her, but she is unfazed by his ferocity.

“I looked through your whole record to see what made you stand out so much.” She has a pensive look on her face. “ _All_ of your assignments went to the Light. How did you manage to do that, especially the difficult souls?”

Tension briefly leaves his form as he thinks. “I... I just waited for them. They looked like they just needed more time, and that's what I had.”

Sombra looks at him fondly and crosses her arms. “So you gave them the time the others wouldn't. No wonder why she gave you special treatment.” She mumbles and indicates the ring. “Though, she _is_ as old as the world. She's within her right to make the conditions...” 

Sombra notices that Gabriel's focus is elsewhere and sighs.

“Okay, okay. I won't keep you any longer. This is goodbye, then.” Sombra waves her hand and releases Gabriel. “It's about time, anyway. Go to him, lover boy.” She gently smiles with her arms crossed. “He's looking for you.”

_You went away and my heart went with you,_

_I speak your name in my every prayer_

_If there is some other way to prove that I love you_ ―


	13. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Shiver by Lucy Rose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1o84y-5-cO0)

The Reaper dissolves into a cloud of dark smoke once again. 

He flies over the cliffs and waves to where he last saw Jack. 

Upon arriving at the scene, he finds nobody there. Only traces of a gunfight. And blood. Lots of it too. _Whose was it_ , he frantically wonders. 

Had he a body, his heart would be racing fast like his smoke which quickly spreads everywhere, searching for a certain mortal. 

_‘It's about time,’_ is what Sombra said. That could mean anything.

 _Jack_ , he calls out and reaches his dark smoke around.

Where could he be?

As he stretches his mist, his mind races with questions. _Jack_ , he thinks as a mantra, almost like a prayer.

  
  
  


The more he makes his way through this place, the more he remembers. More fragments come to mind as he realizes how familiar this place is. _That's right, we called this place home for a while._

The memories fall warm like summer rain. He sees glimpses of the past in his mind’s eye. Tense moments, sweet moments, stolen moments. 

* * * * *

“Gabe, stop! Someone might notice,” a vision of a younger Jack pushes on a younger Gabriel. His hair is golden and his eyes are once again full of a bright, youthful light.. “You said you were only grabbing a health pack. They'll get suspicious if you take too long.” They are stuffed together in a nook between large metal crates

“Never specified how long I'd be,” Gabriel grins as he backs Jack into the cold, blue metal with his hands on his hips. He speaks with a smooth, easy demeanor. “I could be taking a while to dig one out. Could take ages. Who knows?” Jack rolls his eyes, but doesn't protest or resist him. “There are so many options too. It might take me a while to decide, y’know,” he says as he runs a finger across Jack’s collarbone.

“Gabe,” he chides as he grabs ahold of the hand before it can have its way. He's trying his best not to smile. 

_Such warmth._

Gabriel smiles back and sighs. “Alright, fine. I'll behave, commander.” Their foreheads touch and they linger for a moment as they hold each other close. “You know what's even better than any old health pack?”

“What, you cheesy bastard?” Jack’s smile finally breaks through. The love in his eyes is clear like crystalline water.

“This.”

The two lean in.

* * * * *

Seeing these moments fills him with warmth even within his smoky form. But as far as he knows, Jack is still nowhere in sight. So how could this be?

A dark shadow catches his eye as he moves along. He turns and realizes that it's his own reflection in a window.

A dark, hooded figure looms on the other side of the glass, an intimidating sight to see. The hollow eyes of an owl skull stare back as he observes his otherworldly form. He takes a moment to wonder. 

A clawed hand moves up to the mask and carefully lifts it. 

…

 _‘Monster_ ,’ is the first thought that comes to mind.

He wonders what Jack would think of such an unsightly creature. The man in their memories is only that, a memory. No longer young, no longer beautiful. _Disfigured;_ no longer human. Whatever remains of him now is nothing more than this ghastly wraith, wearing his tragedy like a scarlet letter on his form.

He places the mask back on and continues his search.

All the while, he wonders what the warmth could be. Maybe the feeling was triggered by these memories of Jack. If so, then Jack was right. This warmth must be something else.

 _Jack_.

* * * * *

“There you are,” a younger Jack approaches a younger Gabriel leaning against opulent stone railing covered in vines. The two are in full dark blue uniform, adorned in medals. They stand on the balcony of an opulent building overlooking the Spanish town below. The cool, peaceful evening is illuminated by spots of light and stars in the sky, as if they were in a painting. Behind them is a glass door leading to a party bustling with people dressed in formal and military attire. The music from within is muffled by closed doors and barely reaches their ears.

“Congrats on the promotion, Strike Commander.” Gabriel turns around with a subdued smile. “It looked like everyone was eating you up in there. I’ll never understand how you can handle people the way you do, Golden Boy.” He finishes the rest of his champagne and adds the glass to the row of empty champagne flutes lining the stone railing.

“Honestly, it’s a ‘Fake it Till You Make It' kinda thing. It does get tiring after a while, though.” Jack sighs as he approaches. “Enjoying the champagne?” He teases as he indicates the collection. “How many is that? Seven?”

“If absorbing the alcohol faster than I can feel a buzz is enjoying it, then… Yeah.” Gabriel shrugs. “You have fun in there?” He asks quietly. “Everyone else seems to be enjoying you too.” He tries for a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Jack’s brow furrows as he notices. “What’s on your mind, Gabe?” He moves closer, but Gabriel looks around cautiously and keeps to a friendly distance.

Gabriel lets out a soft sigh. “Don’t you ever want anyone else? This is what, your second real relationship? You could probably have any other guy you want, Jack. When I see you in there working your Golden Boy charm and how all those people worship the ground you walk on, I find myself wondering, ‘How the hell does a guy like _that_ love someone like _me?_ ’” He sighs and looks at the flutes lined up on the railing. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I want you to be happy. And that I’ll support you no matter what you choose.” He looks Jack in the eye. “You’re gonna be high profile now. Being tied to someone like me might not play out that well for you in the long run... And _this?_ ” He pulls out a chain with a golden ring from beneath his uniform collar. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I shouldn’t have been selfish. I don’t wanna know what’ll happen if the wrong people find out we’re married.” He quickly tucks the ring back into his collar and looks around for prying eyes.

“Gabe, how could you say that?” Jack seems surprised and almost hurt. He moves closer, but Gabriel points behind them and moves over again. “Oh right, sorry.” He looks back and stays where he is. “Look, I don’t know what’s making you think all of that, but that ain’t even close to what I think.”

“I’m just being practical.”  
“No, you’re just being full of shit, Gabe.” He lightly swats him on the arm. “I think you’re getting too into your head right now. Stop brooding for a second and listen to me, okay?”

Gabriel grumbles, but Jack doesn’t give an inch.

“How long have we been together?”

“...Seven years in six days from now.” He grumbles after a few seconds.

Jack smiles at him, looking impressed at the specificity. “And how long have we been married?”

“A year in six days from now.” He grumbles again.

At this, Jack smiles. “Y’know, that’s a lot of time to know I’m with the right person.” There is a tender look in his eyes as he speaks. “Gabe, I know what I signed up for. Back when you said you wanted to spend your life with me, you said your answer was good enough. So why isn’t _mine_ good enough for you?” He moves closer so that their shoulders are touching. But this time, Gabriel doesn’t move away.

“It’s not that, Jack. It’s not that at all, I’m just…” he sighs, “I think I’m just scared for you. For _us_. I’ve done some terrible things that could bite us in the ass later. In time, I’ll probably have to do more.” Gabriel looks down at his hands which are tucked into his arms that lean on the stone railing. “I'm a monster, Jack. I know that’s why they wanted you to lead the new era of Overwatch instead. Clean record, Golden Boy thing, and all. How are you feeling about that, by the way?” He nudges his husband with an elbow.

“Honestly? I’m scared.” He sighs, their shoulders still touching. Jack turns his head to look at him. “But _you’ll_ be there with me, so I don’t think it’ll be so bad,” he speaks earnestly as the hard look in his eyes lighten up. “And I know your past ain't full of roses and pearls from some of the things you've told me about. I haven't forgotten.” A finger inches its way towards Gabriel's hand. “I don't know who you're tryin’ to be for me, but I know the man standing with me right now. He's a man that's much kinder and more human than he gives himself credit for.” Jack slowly hooks a couple fingers on Gabriel's pinky and ring finger. “And that's more than enough for me.”

“Jack―”

“The same guy is unbelievably hardworking and dedicated. And able to make some of the toughest decisions no ordinary person could. He remembers really specific anniversaries that I'd never even _think_ to think of. He’s good with kids, but terrible with most adults because of his honesty. Also, he always cries at the end of _Phantom of the Opera_ and that _Shape of Water_ movie we always watch. ...Loud snorer too.” He chuckles.

“Hey now,” Gabriel’s expression lightens up a bit. He takes more of Jack's fingers into his grasp, not bothering to look around. Too swept up in his eyes to even care.

“And the way he looks at me? And makes me feel, especially when we're alone together?” Jack gives a long, happy sigh. “I wouldn't trade it for _anything_ in the world.” His deep blue eyes shine in the reflection of the city lights below them, sending a wave of warmth flooding the other man's face.

Gabriel rolls his eyes, trying so hard not to smile. “Jack, you bas―”

“He also makes this habit of aggressively hiding how he feels and _hates_ it when I see right through him.” Jack smiles as he slips his fingers in between Gabriel's and squeezes.

“Alright, guilty as charged.” Gabriel sighs with resignation. He squeezes back with a fond look in his eyes. 

“It’s been several years, so I think I've got a good idea of who you are. I like what I see, Gabe, and I want all of it. Not just the heroic or sexy parts.” Gabriel smiles and rolls his eyes at Jack. “Yes, _all_ of you. So unless you're planning on going somewhere, I'm staying right beside you. I meant it when I said ‘no matter what.’” Jack pulls his hand in and places a kiss where the ring would usually be. “Like you've said before, we belong to each other, don't we?” 

_So very warm._

Gabriel finally knows the answer to what the warmth really is.

* * * * *

It's when he finally starts to feel Jack's warmth again that Gabriel returns to his humanoid form. He can sense it like the light of dawn warming the cool morning air. It melts away at his icy worries as he flows down the metallic hallways of the base.

Gabriel isn't entirely sure where Jack is, but he knows he's close. 

Jack would definitely survive a gunfight with the widow. Especially with Ana and Jesse around. Gabriel had seen the widow's skill firsthand, but he knew his people were better.

Jack would have to be fine, right?

But what if..?

No.

The fact that he could still sense Jack's warmth intensify with every step could only mean that he’s alive. 

The dead don't feel warm like this.

* * * * *

A moment of wandering later and he sees light pouring out from an open doorway. The further he goes towards it, the more his being is engulfed in this familiar warmth.

“Jack?” He calls out. His voice is still rough and metallic. He looks at the ring on his hand. Its red glow has faded and the piece is back to its original form: a golden ring.

He calls out again as he approaches the lit door. 

“Gabriel?!” A familiar, gruff voice responds urgently.

“Jack!” He sees him exit a lit room and walk into the hallway towards him. Blue eyes deep like the ocean pierce him with their welcoming gaze. His hair is silvery white like sea foam. Old and newer scars litter his skin. He may not shine the way he used to, but his light certainly isn't lost to the years. He comes close. Bandages are wrapped around his head, but he is up and walking, so that must be a good sign. “You're alive.” Gabriel says softly with a wave of relief washing over him. 

He stops in front of Jack, filled with warmth, worry, and sweet, sweet relief. He wants to hold him, to take him in his arms. He's so relieved, he could kiss Jack and his shimmering, deep blue eyes. 

But then he remembers. 

He remembers everything. Their situation, what happened with them, and all the things in between. These sought-after memories are what keep him still and restrain him from what he's truly wanted all along.

“Gabriel, you're back! Where were you? What happened?” Jack asks, almost in a whisper. An intense look is in his eyes. The man looks him up and down. He can see the longing to reach out in his eyes as well. _‘Gabriel,’_ he said. Not _‘Gabe.’_

But of course, he would.

There's no doubt about it. All the in-betweens hang thickly in the air, maintaining this stifling distance between them.

So they stand before each other. So very close, yet too far away.

“I… got in trouble with the higher-ups.” He looks to the floor in admission.

Jack can't help but to crack a nostalgic smile at this, but he quickly pulls it back.

“They found out how many times I saved you and…” He trails off and looks back up. “It doesn't matter anymore. I'm here now. What happened? Where are Ana and Jesse?” 

“They're okay.” Jack says a bit distantly. “They captured her. Injured, but nothing too serious. They should be interrogating her right about now.”

“How come you're not there with them? And what happened to your head?” Gabriel impulsively reaches out, but stops himself and his clawed fingers. Jack looks at the hand, his eyes asking a hundred questions with a single gaze. “I…” He retracts his hand quickly. “I remember now.” He speaks in a hushed tone as his hand falls back to his side in a fist. “I remember what I did to you.”

There is a moment of stillness as Jack stares at him. “Gabriel…” A conflicted look is in his eyes. He looks down at the retracted hand. It's so close, but not close enough.

So he takes one step closer. Then another.

And without warning, Jack takes Gabriel's hand. 

Gabriel is surprised by what he feels. It's a gentle, comforting gesture. Two careful fingers slipping beneath his palm and slowly taking more of his left hand. The warmth surrounding them remains unchanged. 

But that's not what occupies his thoughts. 

“Jack, your hand…” He says warily as he looks down at the golden ring.

He can feel him. And he's _cold_.


	14. Forgiveness is Warm, Like A Tear on A Cheek

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another song to accompany this week's chapter:  
> [The Wisp Sings by Winter Aid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZAyZV2evyk)

The two simply stand there, hands locked. An unfathomable expression fills the old soldier’s features. 

Before anything more could be said, Jack tightens his grasp. He pulls, taking Gabriel in a tight embrace with the desperation of a sailor reaching land after being lost at sea for years.

“Gabriel…” His ragged whisper breaks like a wave on a cliff. He holds him tighter. “ _Gabe…_ ” Jack sobs as he holds him in his chilling embrace. Gabriel is still as stone as Jack's arms wrap around him. The way his form fits with his own feels so nostalgic. “You don’t know how much I've missed you,” he continues, trembling with emotion. “I'm so sorry… Gabe, I'm sorry I couldn't―” He stops as he feels a hand on his back. 

“Jack…” Gabriel whispers. “It's okay. I'm… I’m here now.” Had he lungs, he would be breathless. Even without a body, he sounds winded. Slowly, he slides his hand up to wrap his arm around him. He goes so very carefully, as if he’s asking for permission. 

‘ _Gabe,_ ’ he called him. Relief couldn’t even begin to describe how Gabriel feels at the moment. This thought places another, more confident arm around Jack.

Jack sighs as he feels Gabriel’s arms around him. Words he had longed for from a voice he never thought he would hear again. Although different, he could still tell this rough, metallic whisper was his Gabriel.

The warmth surrounds them as they finally hold each other. It feels strange, but it feels right. It feels right, but one thing feels wrong and tarnishes the moment. The fact of the matter hangs heavily in the air and he can’t help but to ask. 

“Jack, why are you so cold―”

He tenses up.

They hadn't noticed it soon enough, but a young woman walks down the hall with a sullen look on her freckled face. She is muscular and her hair, brown like cherry wood, is tied up in a high ponytail. Worriedly, she mumbles in Swedish into her tablet and walks down the hall at a fast pace in their direction. She's too close for Jack to move out of the way in time. At this rate, she'll walk right into them.

But she doesn't.

Instead, she walks right _through_ them. 

…

“ _Helvete!_ ” She exclaims as she walks past them and shivers. She stands right behind Gabriel's back and looks up from her clipboard. Looking around the hall, her eyes don’t catch anything, not even Jack. “It's freezing in here,” she mumbles to herself as she rubs a hand over the gear-shaped tattoo on her bicep. She notices that she overshot her intended destination and heads into the lit room after walking right through them and shivering again. 

“...Jack…?” He asks with trepidation as the man lets him go.

Jack sighs and looks up into the eye holes of his mask. “I'm sorry, Gabe.” He whispers softly. Jack beckons to follow him into the lit room. “It's easier if you see it for yourself.”

* * * * *

The lit room turns out to be a medical bay. They follow the young woman into another room to see Jack laying in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around his head. A heart monitor next to him beats very slowly. She checks his vitals and types notes on her tablet. The look on her face does not bode well.

“I was able to disarm the bomb. She almost got Jesse, but I pushed him out of the way and she got me instead. I'll admit she did some decent damage for a lone sniper without backup. Before we knew she had eyes on us, she got Ana with a poison mine. It stunned her, but she's recovered okay. Ana spotted her, grazed her face, and broke her head equipment on her way down. Last thing I remember before blacking out was Jesse using his Deadeye to get her. From what I overheard, she put up a decent fight. Not enough to escape, though.”

Gabriel remains speechless as he stares at Jack. 

_‘It's about time.’_ The angel’s words ring in his mind. So that's why she let him go? 

“But you survived.”

“I’m not sure if _this_ is what you call surviving, though.” Jack indicates his physical body and then back to himself. “By the look of it, I’m barely holding on because of the biotic field I had on me. My body’s still alive, but I can’t return to it.” Jack walks over and frowns as his form goes through the body laying in the bed. “Looks like a coma.”

If the Reaper had blood, it would run cold. Had he a heart, it would stop in its tracks. The warmth he felt mere moments ago is now a searing, heavy feeling upon his being. He looks around, hoping to not see what he fears will appear.

 _‘It's about time, anyway,’_ the angel said.

…

“Gabriel?” He finally takes notice of Jack asking after him. He takes a second to place himself back in the present. “Since we're here, why don't we talk?” Jack’s demeanor shifts to a softer, more subdued version of himself. He moves to stand face-to-face with Gabriel. “Are we... okay?” he asks gently. 

“...What do you mean?”

“You said you remember now. So you know what happened between us at the Swiss base, right? Before you…” he hesitates, as if speaking of it still stung.

“...Before I died?”

“Yeah. Before you died.” He nods. A pained expression is on Jack's face, as if an old wound had been reopened. “Why did you attack me? Did I really hurt you that much? Enough for you to… do all of that? Will you tell me what I did wrong?” He asks with such an earnest expression. His deep blue eyes watch for an answer; something, anything.

Gabriel is in a pensive silence for a moment. “You did hurt me. You hurt me a lot, but it wasn't enough to make me want to do that to you.” He looks down to his clawed hands. “I know what happened that day, but I hardly remember doing it. I can't think of a reason _why_ I would.” He looks up. “Point is, I hurt you. I may not know exactly why, but I did. And how we were falling apart before then... You wouldn't listen and I wouldn't talk with you, so we both had a part to play in that. I should've tried harder. I know sorry’s not enough, but I'm sorry, Jack. I'm sorry for leaving you like that, for doing that to you—to _us_.” The owl mask still hides his true form, but there is sincerity in his gravelly voice. 

A mix of relief and sadness is in his deep blue eyes as he listens. Jack takes a moment to look at Gabriel before he speaks again. “I've had a lot of time to think about things. And to miss you. But for me, it's all in the past now. It's okay. I forgive you, Gabe. Honestly, I was ready to take all the blame, but I guess there really was some damage on both ends, huh?” He looks at him with a remorseful smile. “I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the way I should've been. I don't expect any forgiveness from you—”

“Jack. You’re not the one who tried to commit mariticide or bomb the Swiss base. I don't think you should be so hard on yourself, ” He crosses his arms and sighs. “And about all that stuff you said, I forgive you too, okay?” Jack smiles warmly at him, though Gabriel could tell that Jack doesn’t feel completely absolved. “Like you said, it’s all in the past.” His shoulders relax, seeming a bit more eased. “Speaking of which, how long have I been gone?”

“...Ten years,” he says with a tired look flashing in his eyes. 

“ _Ten_ years?” If Gabriel still had a human face beneath the mask, Jack could hear what his expression would look like. A few seconds pass as he thinks. “So you're almost sixty, huh? You've changed a lot since my last memories of you.” Jack softly smiles in response. “You weren’t this gray. More wrinkles now too.”

“But I still look good, right? Even for a Living Ghost?” Jack teases as his face crinkles into a smile. The signs of aging are more visible than Gabriel remembers in life, but they don't do anything to detract from his charm. Especially with that warm smile of his.

“Hmm, not bad. Not bad at all, old man.” Gabriel crosses his arms and looks him up and down. A grin is on Jack’s face as he also crosses his arms. “Definitely nowhere near whatever’s going on under this.” He indicates the owl skull covering his face. 

Jack looks intently at the mask before he speaks again. “Gabriel?” His lighthearted air is dampened and his gaze is now appraising. Knowing this look and tone all too well, Gabriel knows what's coming next.

“You're about to ask me for something, aren't you?”

Dark eyebrows raise in amusement. “Oh, it's _definitely_ you under that mask, isn't it?” A small, fleeting smile washes on and off Jack’s aged features, but the fondness remains in his eyes.

“I know your tells too, Jack.” He says, uncrossing his arms. “Now out with it.”

“Okay, okay.” Jack looks him up and down, perhaps calculating something. Perhaps just trying to figure out what to say. His eyes move up to the dark mask holes and he finally speaks when he uncrosses his arms. “Will you let me see you?”

Gabriel freezes in dread of what he's asking for. He takes a step back. “...You don't want to see what's beneath the mask.”

“Yes I do.” Jack insists. “Gabriel, take off your mask. I wanna see you.”

“No. You don't. I'm a monster.” He snaps back.

The look in Jack's eyes is intense, probing for an answer behind the owl mask. “You still think that even now?”

“Only now it's true.” Gabriel says as he indicates himself and his sharp, metallic talons.

Jack sighs. “Still trying to tell me what you think I want even now. You really _are_ Gabe.” He gives a slightly exasperated sigh.

He crosses his arms again, staring down at the floor.

“Gabe, you've been gone for _ten_ years now.” His voice is soft, but his tone is firm. “I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Even being able to talk to you now is a miracle, so _please_ just… just let me have this.” He takes a step towards him. “Please take off the mask. I wanna see my husband.”

The way Jack speaks makes Gabriel’s arms unfold as if they are melting away from his chest. He always knew how to soften him up, didn’t he? Those damned blue eyes of his. Even as a spirit without physical limitations, he finds a way of getting to him.

“...Fine,” Gabriel finally grumbles. The sudden look of excitement flashing on Jack’s face brings back the warmth for a moment. 

He reaches for his mask and slowly removes it.

Jack looks at what is now Gabriel. _His_ Gabriel. Even though he’s not quite what he used to be. Once a dark, deep brown, his eye is a bright red iris on dark sclera. Where there once was ruddy, bronze skin is now pallid, torn flesh. The right side of his face still appears human, but his left side is mostly gone. At the places where flesh ends, begins dark black smoke filled with a cluster of glowing red eyes where his left eye once was. The rest of his cheek is singed off, giving way to his teeth. The black smoke continues his teeth into sharp, uneven canines. Even with such an unsettling appearance, Jack is not frightened.

But his expression does fall as if the sight of this face digs up something unpleasant. For a few seconds, he looks so distant, as if he is recalling an old, half-forgotten pain. Before Gabriel can speak, Jack's expression softens into a look that could melt even the freezing tendrils of death itself. “The smoky stuff and teeth are new, but besides that, you look just like I remember. When I lost you.”

“After the explosion?”

He confirms quietly. Red eyes look down and he removes his gloves to reveal clawed hands. His charred, ashy skin only further proves this conclusion. “I'm sorry you have to see me like th―”

He moves to put his mask on again, but is stopped with a gentle hand reaching his arm. “It's okay. It's okay, Gabe.” He speaks gently. “A lot happened to you. You may have changed, but your wounds don't make you a monster. I know it’s you. I already know who you are beneath all of it, so nothing about you can scare me away.”

The surprise of a gentle hand on his cheek startles him. A thumb caresses his human side. Jack’s eyes speak volumes of how he feels for him.

A clawed hand gently falling on his own causes Jack to smile. 

Gabriel is so full of warmth, that he doesn't know if he's going to melt or burst from it. Nothing in his entire existence had made him as vulnerable as he feels now. Yet here he is, an envoy of death itself face-to-face, confounded and bewitched by a mere mortal soul. A mortal soul he now knows is worth all those years toiling away for. His answer, his reason, his warmth in this cold, unyielding world. “...Jack.” He presses his face into his palm. Were he able to cry, tears would be wetting Jack’s hand. 

He smiles back. “Now that you remember, why don't we catch up?” Jack asks gently. He finds a seat on a bed nearby and pats the space next to himself, indicating for Gabriel to sit with him.

Gabriel looks him up and down before carefully sitting at his side.

The years may have changed them, but the two forces of nature embrace with an unyielded feeling of warmth. Jack may still be cold, but the warmth between them remains surrounding them like the glow of sunlight.

“Now... where do we begin?”

* * * * *

“Forgiveness is warm. Like a tear on a cheek… I loved you completely. And you loved me the same. That's all. The rest is confetti.” 

― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a timeline straight from my notes, just in case you wanted a gauge of the story:
> 
> John "Jack" F. Morrison ~59 born in 2020, from Bloomington, Indiana, USA  
> Gabriel Reyes ~60 [died at ~50] born in 2019, from Los Angeles, California, USA
> 
> Current year: 2080
> 
> Omnic Crisis: 2044-2055 [10/11 years]  
> Started Dating: 2050  
> Married: 2056 [24 years ago]  
> Years leading Overwatch/Blackwatch: 2057-2070 [13 years]  
> Years Married Before Explosion/Death: 14  
> Explosion: 2070  
> Years Without Gabriel: 10
> 
> **I tried matching the timeline with canon as much as possible, but things are just tweaked a little bit to fit the story


	15. If I Go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there!
> 
> For those reading this work before it's completed, I'm posting both the last chapter and epilogue next. It might be a little late or not posted at the same time, but it'll happen!  
> Thank you for sticking around so far! 💕

The numbers on the clock have changed quite a lot since the start of their conversation. 

But what does it matter to two beings that are no longer part of the mortal plane? 

“So you still don't remember how you got to the Swiss base from your last mission?” Jack asks. 

Gabriel takes a moment to think. “I just remember needing to take a detour on the way back. I was in the Philippines, I believe.” His brow furrows as he looks down into his lap. “Next thing I can clearly remember, I'm in Switzerland pointing my gun at you. Something was wrong with me, I couldn't stop. I don't know how the bombs were planted. I couldn't have done all of that myself. There's a lot of lost time in between. I think something must've happened to me on the way back.”

“You came back about two weeks later than you were supposed to.” He frowns. “Well, that wasn't uncommon for you to do. We weren't exactly on the best of terms at the time.” A look of guilt is on his face as his fingers are knitted together. “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you.” He looks up into Gabriel's eyes. “You deserved better. I should've been there for you. I was trying so hard to keep everything together, that I lost sight of what was really important.” His eyes indicate Gabriel. 

“Hey, it’s okay, Jack. I said I forgive you.” He places a hand on his. “In fact, I should be the one apologizing. More importantly, I wanna figure out what happened to me before I died. I saw the moment I died while I was gone. Do you remember that moment clearly?”

“Every day.” He says tiredly.

Gabriel frowns and curls his fingers around his. “Do you remember if there was... something physically off about me that day? Something unusual on me, something in my eyes?”

“I uh…” He squints, thinking about it. “While you attacked me, I showed you my ring. It made you stop for a moment and all you could do was stare. Your eyes were so strained, you looked so sick. Then you started grasping your head. Something was wrong, I think. I tried to approach you, but you stopped me. Afterwards, you yelled my name and pushed me out the window before―” he cuts off, his form flinching. Gabriel squeezes his hand tighter.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to keep going.” He says gently. Gabriel looks at Jack and holds onto his hand until he is calmed down. “It’s okay. I’m here now, Jack.”

“I know, I know. Thank you.” His eyes are still squeezed tightly as he holds Gabriel’s hand. Another moment passes before he asks, “Did that help you any?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Our stories match up. I noticed it too, there was something off about my eyes.” He stares at their clasped hands, seemingly lost in thought.

A moment passes.

“Are you okay, Jack?”

“Yeah.” He nods, squeezing Gabriel’s hand again. “It helps with you here. If anything, I’m just surprised that the trauma carries over as spirits.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from being a reaper,” he stares at their clasped hands. “It’s that pain doesn’t end at the body. It’s etched into our souls, which are made of memories. The flesh may fade, but our memories make up our existence. I think that’s also why we could see the past so easily. It was _our_ past, after all.”

Before Jack could respond, they hear footsteps from behind. The sound of this person’s gait brings back a flood of memories.

Ana.

“Hello, Brigitte dear.” Ana says with a warm weariness. A dark circle is under her eye. She seems as if she hadn’t slept in ages. “Any news on Jack yet?” she asks as she glances over at him. “Please tell me you have something.” The years have certainly changed her as well, but she still holds the same air of strength that Gabriel recognizes and had admired for decades.

Brigitte sighs. “I’m sorry, Ana. He’s still in critical condition because of the blow to his head. Honestly, it's a miracle he's still breathing.” Everyone in the room looks at Jack's body warily. “I'm sorry, but there’s only so much I can do for him. Have you heard anything from Angela yet?”

The older woman shakes her head. “Nothing new.”

“How about the sniper you’re interrogating? Jesse told me she was an old friend of yours before. Is that true?”

Ana sighs. “Unfortunately, yes. She’s the wife of an old friend from Overwatch. We’ve been on her nonstop since daybreak.”

“And…?”

“We thought she simply betrayed us, but that might not be the entire story.” Her brow furrows and she crosses her arms, thinking deeply. “I know it’s been years, but she looks very different from how we remember her. Unnaturally different.”

“What do you mean?”

Ana looks up at the younger woman. “Widowmaker is what she calls herself. Her skin used to be pale like porcelain, now it’s some kind of strange blue color. And her eyes were dark, but they changed color too. Whenever we would talk of the past, she would barely bat an eye. Almost as if she’s lost her ability to feel emotion.” A haunted look is on her aged face. “Whatever Talon did to her all this time… I don’t think much of Amélie Lacroix is left in there.”

Everyone else in the room shudders.

Ana talks to Brigitte for a while longer and then warns Jack to stay alive before she takes her leave.

The two look at each other after thinking for a moment.

“You’ve seen Widowmaker up close, right?” Jack asks Gabriel. 

“I have.”

“What color are her eyes?”

He takes a moment to think. “Gold. They were bright gold. Why?”

“And she didn’t think twice about her past…” Jack mumbles while holding his chin. “Gabe, this might be a stretch, but I might have an idea about what happened to you.” He turns to him. “What happened in the Philippines before you came back?”

“I…” He takes a moment to think. “I was investigating a possible Talon base there. It was something about genetic weapons. It turned out a dud and we were heading back, but our ship had a fuel problem and we had to stop.” He squints, as if struggling to recall something.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hold on…” He holds the intact part of his face where his beard is. A few more seconds pass. “I can’t remember what happened past that.” He looks to Jack with apprehension. “Do you think…”

“We lost contact for about two weeks. Anything could’ve happened. You could’ve gone missing in that time. How about your crew? Who was with you?” 

“Just a couple of agents. Newer ones you didn’t know.”

Jack’s brow creases. “...And the day you died, I thought I saw a golden ring around your eyes. I thought I was seeing things, but… could that be…?”

Gabriel pauses to think for a moment. He recalls the night Amélie Lacroix became a widow. Her golden eyes. That hauntingly vacant look she wore as she pulled the gun on her husband. The dread he felt as he watched it happen. 

All at once, he understood.

“Holy shit…” Gabriel hoarsely whispers. “Talon fucking brainwashed me into doing all that?! I almost killed you! I—” He stops to pause, a haunted look in his eyes. He looks back to Jack to make sure he’s still there. “They really made me destroy my own life,” he says incredulously. The black smoke and eyes that cover his missing pieces begin to swelter and seep out of shape as he grows increasingly upset by the second. Of all the ways to go, this wasn’t one he would have ever imagined.

_How?! Why?!_

The questions pile up as the information settles. 

Gabriel gets up and begins to pace. The bright red eyes in his smoke glow brighter and look angrier. Black tendrils of mist seep out between his jagged teeth as he mutters to himself.

“Hey. Hey Gabe,” Jack gets up and tries to reach for him. “Gabe, it’s okay.”

“No it’s _not_ okay! We finally figured out what happened and now there’s nothing we can do about it!” He begins to pace around again. The smoke around him floats with agitation and spreads around the room. Jack looks on with a frown. “How will we tell them? The ring lost its power once I got my memories back.” He holds up his hand with the now golden ring. “And you’re the only one who can sense me, so I can’t pass a message if you’re not in your body.”

Jack looks at it for a moment, but reshifts his focus. “Gabe...”

“If we don’t tell them, they might never know! What if they all live the rest of their lives thinking I betrayed them? It’s already been ten years, who knows what―”

“Or they’re gonna figure it out and realize what happened to you. I wasn’t the only one who thought there was more to it.” Jack stops him in his tracks by standing in front of him and catching him by the shoulders. “Gabe. Look at you. Look at me. We’re both _dead_. This isn’t our fight anymore.”

“No, no, no. You’re not dead yet.” He points to Jack’s body with a faint heartbeat beeping on the monitor. “They said Angela is coming soon. She can still revive people, right? Maybe she can fix you and you’ll be able to live. This can’t be it for you. Not like _this_. You have so many years left!” Gabriel pleads. His smoke continues to fill the room in an anxious manner.

Jack looks over to his body. Dark clouds float around it, as if they are protecting him. “‘Many years,’ huh?” he mumbles. A sinking feeling overtakes him as he furrows his brow. In his eyes lays an answer that he had been sitting on for a very long time. Jack slowly turns his head back towards him. “Hey... It’s okay, Gabe.” He says with a calmness that takes Gabriel by surprise. “I thought it through while you were gone. Some things are meant to be, aren’t they? I think _this_ is it.” A resigned smile is on his face. “If I go, I’m goin’ with you.”

“Are you crazy?! Jack, _please_. You have a chance to survive!”

“And then what, I live without you again? For how many more years? Another ten, maybe even longer?” He gives a pained expression. Had he a body, his eyes would have been wet with tears. “Gabriel… _Gabe…_ ” He pleads in return. The years of ache and longing show on Jack’s face. It reminds him of the look in his eyes when they left the clearing together. It is more than enough to stop Gabriel in his anxious rage. Had he a beating heart, it would break. 

“Jack, I―”

“Gabe, _please_ . Just…” He desperately reaches out a hand to hold his. They latch on tightly. “Stay. Just... stay with me here. Right at this very moment. Can you do that for me?” He grasps Gabriel’s left hand with both hands now. He strokes the golden ring on his finger with his thumb and they both look down at their rings. “I’ve lived long enough without you. No more, please. No more.” He shakes his head and squeezes tighter. “I’m tired, Gabe. I’m so damn tired... I've made my mistakes, I've learned my lifetime of lessons. I just want _you_ now. That's all…” Gabriel is stunned by his words. “The deal you struck with the archangel was to see me, wasn't it? Can’t that be enough?”

Gabriel squeezes back, still struck by the man's words alone. A few quiet seconds pass. The dark smoke slowly thins as his indignation peters out and he remembers himself. He solemnly looks to Jack and back down to their hands. “Of course, Jack. Of course.” He raises Jack’s hands to carefully kiss them. “‘No matter what,’ right?”

Jack begins to weep and they pull in for an embrace. Gabriel weeps with him.

“I’ve worked this hard to find you. I’ll never leave you again,” he whispers into his ear. “Just you and me for good this time, okay?”

Jack sighs in relief as their forms melt into the embrace they share.

* * * * *

Time passes and they talk some more. They watch carefully, but Jack’s condition doesn’t improve. Next to Jack’s body now sits a man in a red serape. He’d been there for hours and had fallen asleep with his arms crossed. His hat lays on the floor a bit awkwardly, for it had fallen off his head when he nodded off. 

“He’s grown a lot, hasn’t he?” Gabriel looks to Jesse fondly. He reaches out a hand to pat his head, but it goes right through him undisturbed.

“Yeah. He’s been through and grown a lot since you’ve been gone. I still remember when he was that scrappy young punk in the interrogation room.” Jack grins. “He’s done about as much good as he’s done questionable things, but at the end of the day, he’s a good man. I’m proud of him for that much.”

“Hm.” Gabriel doesn’t say it, but the look in his eye says that he agrees. He turns back to Jack. “So... I guess we’re just sitting around waiting for the big K.O., huh?” Jack nods. “We might be a while. Any regrets before then?”

Jack raises an eyebrow. “Hm, plenty. Nothin’ I can really do about them now, though. I’ve had more of a chance to say my goodbyes than most do. Even if they didn’t know that's what it was.” He looks around and scratches his chin. “One thing, though. If I could be selfish... _Anything_ I wanted. I wish I could’ve grown old with you. That’s all.” He looks back to Gabriel. “I mean, we had a good thirty years together. Even though most of it was tryin’ not to die or keeping our relationship a secret.” He chuckles. “I would’ve liked more time with you. More peaceful times. But with the path we chose? I knew we were both gonna meet violent ends; that’s just how it was gonna be.”

Gabriel nods solemnly. “I would’ve liked more time with you too. Watching you turn gray and calling you an old man. See how long those super soldier drugs would actually last us.” The ends of his mouth lift slightly. “In an ideal world, that could happen.” He turns his head to gaze at him where he sits on the empty bed.

“In an ideal world?” Jack sighs again and gets up to walk to Gabriel. “In my ideal world, you survived and we found a way to be happy again. Maybe we’d both ‘die’ at the Swiss base and go far away where nobody would know who we were. Once we’re done traveling, we’d get a house in the woods. A big one, so the young ones could have a place to crash if they need. We could grill on Sundays. Maybe argue about how to cook the steak instead of large-scale international affairs. Maybe I could pick up a job as a lumberjack or something to pass the time. Live up to my name a little.”

“That’d be a sight,” Gabriel smiles. “Jack the lumberjack?” They both laugh. 

Jack’s laugh falls into a soft smile. His eyebrows are creased up with warmth and longing. “This right here, this is one of the things I’ve missed the most. Just being able to talk with you like this.” Taking his side, he leans his head against Gabriel’s shoulder. “In my ideal world, I’d give you the rest of my nights, the rest of my mornings. Every second I could find. Then I won't have to miss you as terribly as I have all this time. In the end, I'd hope I’m not the one left behind.” His brows furrow and he tucks his head into the crook of Gabriel's neck.

Gabriel squeezes his hand tighter. “I’m sorry I left you like that, Jack.”

Jack looks up at him. “Gabe, I’m just glad you’re here with me.” His brow wrinkles. Had he still been flesh, his eyes would have dampened. “You’ll never know how much I’ve missed you.” His hand reaches for his face and gently pulls it in towards his own.

Before Gabriel could reciprocate, they hear more footsteps. But they’re different this time. It’s a gait that neither of them recognize. Whoever it is, they walk with a light, metallic pitter patter. They move to the end of the room to see who it is.

A man about the same age as Jesse appears at the entrance. His long, dark hair is tied up and he wears a dark haori hanging loosely on his shoulders. A large blue dragon tattoo runs from his left pec, down the length of his left shoulder, and to his wrist. His short pants give way to metallic legs. He stops at the doorway and looks on with concern. 

“Jesse?” he asks as he begins to approach with a quiet but confident gait. The man in question is still asleep.

Gabriel squints at the man as he walks by. “You see that, Jack?”

“Yeah.”

“I know Genji had one, but it looks like he has two of them.” Gabriel says thoughtfully. The old soldiers look at the two dragons resembling the tattoo. They sit wrapped around the man’s shoulders with their eyes trained on the two of them. The snake-like creatures glow a transparent blue and occasionally crackle with lightning whenever they move. “Didn’t know they were like pets.”

“This must be Hanzo. Jesse told me about him earlier.”

A gentle hand wakes the sleeping man. “Jesse?”

“Hm?” Jesse grumbles as he stirs. He looks up and his eyes brighten. He doesn't seem to take notice of the dragons. “Oh hey, darlin’. What’s goin’ on?”

“I was just checking on you. That is all.” His tone is an elegant lilt in comparison to Jesse's smooth drawls. “You have been here all day. Come back to the room. Do you not trust in Doctor Lindholm to update you?” His words are crisply delivered, but they are sincere and gentle.

“Of course I do. I just…” He looks at Jack's body sorely. “I ain’t doin’ any good pacing elsewhere, y’know. I wanna be here when Jack wakes up. I needa say sorry an’ all that.”

At this, Hanzo frowns. He looks to Jack Morrison. “I ran into Doctor Lindholm on my way here and she told me the situation. She told you too, right?”

Jesse sighs. “Yes, yes, I know, Han. He's―” Jesse hesitates, as if he didn't want it to be true. “I know. He's brain-dead. I just…” He grips the seat he's in. “I'm thinkin’ maybe his super soldier modifications might kick in and he'll be okay. It's always been like that as long as I’ve known ‘im. But now?” He sighs as he looks to Jack’s body. “Ana came in earlier. She's already gettin’ ready to say goodbye.” His voice is soft and his expression breaks. Hanzo comes closer and places a hand on his shoulder. Jesse stands up and pulls him in closer by the waist to bury his face into the man's shoulder.

“Jesse,” Jack walks towards them and reaches out. 

“Jack, wait―” Gabriel follows after.

One of the dragons moves to take a defensive position and stares Jack down. Jack stops in his tracks, unsure of what to do. The dragon crackles with lightning as it turns its head to examine him.

Hanzo turns his head slightly, as if he had been given a signal. Even so, he continues to comfort his partner.

“Careful, Jack. Don't get near them.” Gabriel says evenly.

“What are they?”

“Guardian spirits. They're part of our plane and can affect the mortal one if they’re powerful enough. They vary by region and attach to certain mortals. Not sure how or why, though.”

“Oh.” He says as he tilts his head. The dragon mirrors his movement curiously. It crackles with lightning again as it moves. The other one keeps its eyes trained on Gabriel. It coils around its master tighter, eliciting another spark.

The one eyeing Jack slides off of the man’s shoulder and slithers through the air around Jack and then lands on Jack’s body’s chest. Jack looks on cautiously as it seems to be sniffing him. Gabriel steps forward and watches protectively.

The dragon does not seem to be in a belligerent mood, so they simply watch it examine Jack. A moment passes and it finishes whatever it was doing and flies back to its master’s shoulder. Coiling around with the other one, it begins to crackle with its little sparks of blue lightning.

Hanzo clearly takes notice again. A moment passes as he seems to be listening to them. It seems as though they are communicating in an unspoken language.

“Jesse,” he finally says, gently stroking the other man’s brown hair.

“Hm?”

“My dragons tell me that it would be wise to turn in for the evening.” A dragon crackles again. “And so should Captain Amari.”

Jesse looks to Jack’s body and then back to Hanzo with a dispirited expression in his eyes. “They’ve got somethin’ planned, don’t they?”

Hanzo solemnly nods as he takes his partner’s hand to lead him away. The two look back at Jack’s body once more and say goodbye before they exit the room.

* * * * *

Time passes. Minutes, hours. According to the clock, at least.

“I wonder what that was about...” Gabriel thinks with crossed arms as he leans on the door frame. He is met with silence. “Jack?” He turns to see where he is.

Jack stands at his own bedside, looking at his body. He places a hand on it, but it passes right through. Jack’s back is turned to Gabriel, so he cannot see his expression. Even so, his being exudes a feeling of stillness. 

“Gabe…” He says with a low voice.

“Jack?” He asks carefully, trying to figure out the cause of this sudden tension.

“It’s time, I can feel it.” Another moment passes before he turns around to look at him. He is trembling and his brow is pressed together. “I can feel myself dying.” 

Gabriel looks to Jack, both of their hearts breaking. “...Does it hurt?” He asks as he makes his way to his husband’s side.

“Can’t say it does.” Jack says softly and shakes his head. “It feels like something is slipping away from me.” He feels two clawed hands slide around his waist. 

“I’m here, Jack.” A gravelly voice whispers as he holds him tightly. “I’ve got you this time. I’m right here.”

“I know.” Jack smiles and lets Gabriel hold him in his final moments. “It's not a bad deal at all, y’know. Dying in your arms like this.” He presses himself to Gabriel, laying his head in the crook of his neck as they watch his body’s chest heave slower and slower. “Couldn’t have asked for anything better. Thank you, Gabe.”

The heart monitor creeps slowly.

They watch as it eventually comes to a halt.

They look outside the window. Dusk settles, and so does Jack Morrison’s heart. The machine rings flatly and echoes against the sterile walls.

They stand there for a while, simply holding each other and taking in the solemn moment.

Time passes and an arm eventually releases its hold. “You ready?” A dark swirl of smoke forms in Gabriel's free hand. It takes the shape of a shotgun.

Jack gives something akin to a sigh. “Yeah. I’m ready.” They let go, but remain hand in hand.

Gabriel raises his shotgun. The brightly glowing red string only visible to his reaper eyes hangs between Jack’s body and soul. He had seen and done this countless times, so he knows exactly where to aim. _Just like every other job,_ he reassures himself.

Even so, this shot is the most difficult of all. He tries not to think about the last time he had shot at Jack.

But he hesitates.

Jack kisses Gabriel’s hand.

“I'm right here, Gabe. It's okay. You’re not hurting me.”

…

“It’s okay. Do it.”

Gabriel pulls the trigger.


	16. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> This is technically the last chapter before the epilogue. It's very short, so I'll try to post the epilogue before next Friday whenever I finish making the drawing.  
> Thank you again for your continued support! 💕

Jack Morrison is dead.

He is dead, but he isn’t quite gone. Not just yet. The two souls remain in the room and watch as Dr. Lindholm runs into the room to try and resuscitate him. 

Before they could watch her work, the sound of electricity crackling behind them catches their attention. They turn around to see two blue dragons floating in the air. This time, however, they are much larger and imposing. 

_Come with us_ , one of them says without moving its mouth. Its voice rings in their minds loudly and rumbles like thunder.

 _We will not harm you. Our master forbids it._ A wispy voice adds. The two dragons circle Jack and Gabriel in a smooth motion, beckoning them out the doorway. 

“Where are you taking us?” Gabriel asks skeptically.

_To those who wish to see you the most._

Without warning, the hallway on the other side of the door frame disappears and in its place is a blue portal swirling with white clouds and sparks of blue lightning.

_Our time is limited._

_Make haste._

The two look at the dragons warily and then at each other.

“Guess we don’t have a choice,” Jack mumbles. “Does this usually happen?”

“Nope,” Gabriel shakes his head. “This is… very new to me also.”

“Oh. Well, um… After you?” Jack motions with his hand.

Cautiously, the two walk through the portal that crackles with bright blue light. The moment they reach the entrance, the clouds flash brightly. The two flinch. 

_Do not fear,_ a voice rumbles like thunder.

They continue cautiously through a tunnel of stormy clouds that crackle with lightning and have a low roar of thunder. The dragons lead the way, floating and swirling in the air like graceful kites in the wind. 

_We have arrived. You have until the storm clears, which is not long._ The other whispers in an airy voice. They swirl around once more and fly away into two different directions in the clouds above.

A flash of lightning blights their vision for a moment. 

* * * * *

Jack and Gabriel find themselves now standing on a sandy shoreline. They cannot smell the ocean nor can they feel the breeze. The waves crash on the ground, but the water goes right through their feet, undisturbed. 

In the distant sky is a raging storm. However, its roars of thunder are muted. The crash of waves and the whispering wind resounds in wherever this place is. More importantly, they spot three familiar figures in the distance.

“Jack?!” They hear two of them cry out in unison. 

On the dreary but calm shores, two sets of figures hasten their way to meet each other. One dark figure of each party follows slowly behind.

Jack is met with a sudden, tight embrace by Ana and Jesse.

“Jack!!! Is it really you?!” Ana asks with exasperation in her crisp voice.

“Hey, Ana.” He smiles warmly.

“You idiot!!!” She flicks his forehead and hugs him again after Jesse lets go. “What were you thinking throwing yourself around so recklessly like that? Don't you dare die on us, you hear?!” She seems almost indignant, but the tears in her eye betray her demeanor. 

Jack sadly smiles back as he touches where she flicked him. “I'm sorry, Ana. I didn't think it'd happen like this. I'm just glad Jesse’s—” He turns to Jesse, who has a look of guilt on his face. “Hey, what's the matter?”

“I'm sorry, Jack. I should've watched my back more. I―” 

“Hey, no no no. It's okay, son.” He places a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault, don't you dare blame yourself.” The soft smile remains on his face. “This was gonna happen one way or another. I'm just glad I could keep you safe in the process.” 

“But―”

“No but’s.” He squeezes his shoulder and lets go. “It's okay, Jesse. This was… meant to be. Plus,” he turns to look at the dark hooded figure behind him, “I brought someone who you might wanna see.”

Behind him saunters a dark figure. The darkness of his hood makes it difficult to view his face. 

“Is that―” 

The figure walks up to them with nervous anticipation. Dark smoke lightly flows in his wake.

“...You can see me now?” A raspy, metallic voice.

“Gabe, take off your hood. Maybe then they can _actually_ see you.” Jack crosses his arms with a grin.

A raspy sigh. “Fine. But don't blame me if you don’t like what you see.” The hood is removed to reveal Gabriel. His face is still torn and compensated with dark smoke, glowing red eyes, and sharp teeth. “Hey,” he greets them shyly.

“Gabriel?!” Ana whispers sharply. She runs to him and tackles him with an embrace. “Is it really you?! Oh darling, I never thought I'd see you again!” She lets go and places a hand on the flesh part of his face. “You poor thing...” A look of sympathy is in her eye as she strokes his ashy skin with her thumb.

“I thought Jack was hallucinatin’ you, but I guess what he said was true.” Jesse looks at Gabriel, clearly in awe. 

“It's been a while, Jesse.” He walks to him with a soft smile.

“Ain't you supposed to be long gone, old timer?” He smiles back, on the verge of tears. 

“What can I say? Can't get rid of me that easily, I guess.” He says as they come together for a hug. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but the storm is beginning to subside. Time is not a luxury for us.” Hanzo adds gently.

“Oh right! My bad, darlin.’” Jesse moves to stand beside him. “This here is Hanzo.” He proudly gestures to the slightly shorter man.

“Hello. Hanzo Shimada at your service. I am Jesse’s partner.” Hanzo nods politely. “This meeting is due to the power of my spirit dragons.” He gestures at the storm and their location. His tattoo peeks out from beneath his sleeve. The dragon running down his arm glows and sparks with blue lightning like the sky behind them. Even his dark brown eyes hold a shine of that same cobalt spark. “I apologize for any abruptness. I hope their invitation wasn’t too startling.” He nods again.

“A bit surprising, but no need to worry. Nice to finally meet you, Hanzo.” Jack greets with a kind smile.

“Thank you for all this.” Gabriel says as he returns to Jack's side.

“Of course. My apologies for such limited time.”

“Don't worry, this is fine.” Jack shakes his head. “This is more than most get, anyway. Right, Gabe?” He turns his head to make sure he’s still there.

“Yeah. Thank you for that,” Gabriel nods. “Also, we came to say goodbye.”

“Wait, does that mean you're…”

“Yeah… I’m dead.” Jack nods solemnly. “But I'm in good hands,” he turns to Gabriel and takes his arm. “Y’know, he's been waiting for me all this time.” He squeezes tighter, looking at his husband with adoration in his eyes.

The storm continues to subside in the distance. A gust of wind blows gently on the dark gray clouds. Rays of light begin to shine in patches on the dreary shore.

“Hey, uh…” Gabriel takes a step closer. “Not for nothing, but I'm sorry for what I did. We figured out what happened. Whatever Talon did to Amélie Lacroix, it happened to me also. That's why I…” He trails off, guilt still in his expression.

“Gabriel, dear, I'm so sorry.” Ana says again, taking his hand. “I believe you. I promise we'll investigate it. I knew something was suspicious from the start.” 

“Same here,” Jesse adds. “We'll definitely get to the bottom of it and get ‘em back for the both of you, ya hear?”

A smile is on both Gabriel and Jack's faces. He feels the warmth of their forgiveness and love like the gentle heat of a flame. It’s a different warmth from Jack’s. 

Then they notice a patch of light shining on them from above. They look to Hanzo, who nods in confirmation. “We have little time left. Fujin and Raijin only have so much energy to continue,” he says apologetically.

“It's okay. Thank you for doin’ this for us, darlin',” Jesse says as he pulls the man in closer.

Jack looks up at the clearing sky and back down at them. “Will you please bury me the way I did with Gabriel?” He says quietly, looking out at the ocean and then back to his husband.

“Of course, dear. Of course.” Ana nods with tears in her eye.

“The pictures I tried giving you are still in my jacket pocket. Those are yours and Ana’s now. Take good care of ‘em, okay?”

“So that's what you were on about,” Jesse huffs. “Alright, Jack. We'll take care of things from here. Don’t you worry ‘bout us.”

“We know you will. And you'll do it well. We trust in you two for that.” Gabriel says. “Jesse, I want you to know I'm proud of you. We were so lucky to have you—” He looks to Ana as well. “To know you and to fight at your side all those years.”

The storm is cleared and the shore they stand on is bright with light. A shroud of gray clouds from the sky sweeps down and begins to wrap around Jack and Gabriel.

“Looks like this is Goodbye,” Jack says with a sad smile as the clouds continue to swell around them. He and Gabriel make sure their hands are intertwined tightly.

“Take care of each other,” Gabriel adds.

“We love you.” Jack calls out through the gathering clouds.

“Goodbye, dears. I’m so glad you two are together again. Get some rest, you hear?” Ana says, trying to keep herself from reaching for them. Her tears betray her smile. “We love you too.”

Jesse stands there with his partner holding his hand, rubbing tears from his cheek with the other.

The clouds swirl around the two spirits like a small hurricane. Despite the chaotic, intense energy surrounding them, a serene look is on their faces.

Then with a flash of lightning, they are gone.

* * * * *

Jack and Gabriel are swept back into the mortal realm.

They have returned to the medical bay and its numbing light as it was when they left. A shroud lay upon the body that once was Jack Morrison. The two look at it solemnly.

* * * * *

Time passes.

Even though they have already said their goodbyes, they decide to stay a bit longer. Jack watches as his ashes are scattered into the ocean. It's strange, he admits to Gabriel, not being seen or heard when they’re right there with their family. Even stranger yet, is attending one's own funeral.

It’s nice to see their comrades gathered again for their sake. Ana and Jesse are grieving, but they do not seem devastated. Hanzo and his dragons are there too, honoring the loss. Jack and Gabriel know the dragons can sense them there, but nothing is mentioned of their presence. The dragons acknowledge them with a weary nod and rest wrapped together around their tired master’s shoulders.

Jack listens to the words spoken of his deeds and of his life by those who truly knew him. Gabriel is there with him at his side. Both now and in the stories being told. Together in life and now in death.

“We really _are_ a matching set, huh?” A rugged smile comes from the old soldier.

“I guess so, Jackie.” Gabriel chuckles.

* * * * *

“Fear is the relinquishment of logic, the willing relinquishing of reasonable patterns. But so it seems, is love. Love is the relinquishment of logic. The willing relinquishment of reasonable patterns. We yield to it or we fight it; we cannot meet it halfway. Without it, we cannot continue for long to exist without it sanely under conditions of absolute reality.” 

― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House


	17. Epilogue: Journeys End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for your patience.
> 
> Here's a song to go with the epilogue:  
> [ If I Go, I'm Goin' by Gregory Alan Isakov](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gNgxWKezvDw&list=PLDqzPOWFRwi5fida8Kp35K9LzD1Pm6vOs&index=12)

_I will go if you ask me to_

_I will stay if you dare_

_And if I go, I'm goin' crazy_

_Let my darlin' take me there_

_If I go, I'm goin' crazy_

_Let my darlin' take me there_

  
  
* * * * *

Two forces of nature stand together. One long dead, the other recently alive. They linger at the rocky cliffs long after everyone has left. 

It could have been days, it could have been weeks, months, maybe even longer. Mortal time passes quite differently for those who are no longer in its grasp. Especially so when they’re with someone they had missed for such a long time.

* * * * *

Jack and Gabriel had talked and talked till there was nothing left to say. Filling in the years and long, stifling absence with stories, thoughts, and musings. Time together was all they had now. A welcome luxury, especially with all the pain they suffered to finally get it.

* * * * *

They don’t know how long it has been, but the sun is now high in the sky. Birds cry in the distance and the waves gently meet with the shore. Despite the somber mood, it's a clear, bright, and beautiful day on the Spanish coast.

Waves crash right through their feet, reminding them of how they no longer belong to this plane of existence. They stand at the line where earth and sea meet at the shore.

“I've traveled on and around it so many times, but the ocean still feels like it goes on for forever,” Jack muses as he holds on to Gabriel's arm and lays his head on his shoulder. 

“You think they'll be okay without you?” Gabriel mumbles as his head falls onto Jack's.

Jack sighs, happy to feel such a nostalgic motion. Though they will never feel the warmth of each other's human flesh again, the warmth they feel for each other fills its absence as if it were sunlight on skin. “I believe in ‘em. Not like there’s another option now,” he huffs. Jack looks to Gabriel's torn face and frowns, however, not because of his wounds. “What's on your mind?”

“I dunno…” Gabriel has a preoccupied look on whatever is left of his face. “I guess it all feels bittersweet for me. Not knowing who I was for so long, finally coming back for a moment, and then having to say goodbye just as quickly.”

Jack sighs and nods in acknowledgement. “Don't be sad, Gabe. If you think about it, we both got a second chance to make things right. We even had a chance to say goodbye. That's a lot more than most get.” He brushes his cheek gently. “Thank you for doing that for us.”

Gabriel touches the hand on his cheek and sighs. “You're right. But I still can’t help but feel like we're leaving so much behind. All the work and sacrifices we’ve made... We won't get to see how things play out. Just... disappearing into who knows what. I've seen so many endings. I've seen and felt all the regret and pain for myself. So many people being left behind and realizing how they had to go on without the ones they lost. I hate to leave ours behind like that.”

“It’s like you said before: mortals have their set time. Everyone has to meet their end one way or another. But the stars are still gonna shine tonight. And every night after. Life will still go on whether or not we’re around. It's just… not for us to be part of anymore, Gabe.” He continues to look out to the ocean. “But y’know, I learned something in all these years missing you.” He feels a head move in acknowledgement, prompting him to continue. “This might just be the musings of a sappy old man, but… I don't think we could ever truly be ‘without.’”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“When you... died, I was _scared_ . So scared to live without you. You being away was one thing, but knowing I'd never see you again? Especially with our final moments playing out the way they did?” Jack lets out a shaky sigh. His voice wavers. “It _ruined_ me. I had no idea what I'd do with myself. I thought all I had left of you was the grief and guilt I carried with me for years.” He squeezes his arm tightly. “ _Ten whole years._ ” Each word was spoken slowly, excruciatingly.

Gabriel could feel the weight of those years from his words alone. He squeezes back. “Jack…”

“It turned me into something bitter and so very broken. Y’know, I even thought of letting history claim me,” he admits softly. “...But I didn't. Eventually, I realized that if I were gone, you would be too.” He tucks his head further into Gabriel’s neck.

“How so?”

“It wasn’t just the guilt and grief left. I also had memories of you. Good and bad, they were still of _you_ , so they were all worth holding on to. “Jack smiles warmly at Gabriel’s expression. "See, Gabe, you and I are so intertwined. In some kinda way, you were scattered into so many tiny pieces in my life. The little things kept me thinking of you. I mean, it hurt like hell and never beat the real deal, but it was _something_. So I took it, painful as it was. Instead of punishing myself, I dedicated my time to finding out the truth of your death. In that way, I wasn’t completely ‘without’ you. And I guess Ana and Jesse won’t be either by picking up where I left off.”

Gabriel holds him tighter and kisses his head.

“Not to mention, pieces of us are scattered in other ways. All the lives we saved, all the good and bad things we did. All of it. _I’d_ say we've left quite a mark on the world.”

Gabriel has a pensive look on his face as he thinks about Jack's words. “Jack, I'm sorry about all the shit I've—”

He is stopped by Jack lifting his head and moving to face him.

“Gabe. I’ve told you so many times already that it's okay. We know what happened. You’re already forgiven.” There is a kind, reassuring smile on his rugged features. “Besides, it’s game over for us now. What does all that even matter anymore?” Jack holds his hands and looks him in the eye. “ _You_ are the love of my life. I never stopped loving you, not for a second.”

Gabriel is stunned by the intensity of his words and actions. Were he able to breathe, he would be breathless. Instead, his expression softens into a tearless weep. “Jack—”

Jack smiles and cradles his cheek. “I love you, Gabriel Reyes. And you love me. The fact that we're here together despite everything that happened proves it. That's it. That’s all that matters. The rest of it is just... waves crashing on the shore. There and then gone. Now it's just you and me, Gabe.”

Gabriel softly smiles back and leans into the hand, delicately holding it with his own, as if it were the most precious treasure in the world. His brows furrow in reverence to the love of his life. “I love you too, Jack. I've loved you for so long, I don't even know how to stop.”

“Not even being dead could stop you, you stubborn bastard. So much for the ‘Till death do us part’ thing.”

The two laugh softly.

The small distance between them closes.

The kiss they had shared was easy. Their hands knew exactly where to reach, where to hold. They had done it countless times in life, after all. The action in itself was pure relief, as if all those empty years in between had melted away and they felt whole again. For only a moment, everything felt as if they never had to say goodbye.

This feeling, this warmth that they had felt for each other from the start of their fated meeting as reaper and mortal. They now know exactly what it was, what it had been all along. 

It was love. Love was the answer. 

And it feels warm. It feels right, it feels whole, and it feels like finally coming home. 

“Wow, I feel so much lighter,” Jack muses when they slowly let go.

“Like a weight lifted off your shoulders?”

“Yeah… You too?” Gabriel nods in response. Jack closes his eyes, allowing himself to be enveloped in the feeling. “Is this what it's like to feel at peace?” 

“Hm. I guess so. But it's also…” He turns around to point at a large, bright beam that had appeared without warning. “The Light.” It had crept in like gentle tides on the shore without their notice. 

“Huh,” Jack looks at it, pondering. Gabriel can see his form unconsciously shifting towards it.

Gabriel himself feels it too. He remembers the feeling of this light. It is warm and forgiving. Its beams wash over them and feel like a sigh of relief. He feels himself also drifting towards its warm, beckoning rays. “Looks like our ride’s here, Golden Boy. It's inviting us over. Can you feel it?”

“Yeah. It’s... beautiful.” He briefly turns to say. Jack seems mesmerized by its glow.

“Do you... wanna go?”

“Do you know where it's leading us?” He still holds on tightly to Gabriel’s hand,

“No idea,” he shrugs.

“Hm…” Jack hesitates. “What if it's Hell... or something worse?”

“I'd _still_ follow you into Hell if you'd let me, Golden Boy.” Gabriel says without a bit of hesitation. “Also… Not for nothing, but my boss was an angel— _literally_. She seemed to like me, so wherever we end up, I’d like to think she put in a good word for us.” He puffs up his chest with a bit of pride and confidence.

Jack sighs and smiles at him, the love in his eyes is plain to see. “Alright, Gabe. I'll take your word for it.”

They continue to hold hands as they advance towards the Light. “How’re you feeling? You doing alright?”

Jack looks down at their hands and sighs. “To be honest, I'm terrified.” He admits with a nervous huff. Jack squeezes again and looks up at Gabriel. “But _you're_ with me, so I don't think it'll be so bad.”

If Gabriel were capable, he would melt. Instead, he smiles at him. “No matter what, Jack Morrison.”

Jack smiles back. “No matter what.”

Together, they walk towards the Light, feeling its warm rays like a long-awaited embrace.

Gabriel stops and looks to his side. This time, Jack is with him, still holding his hand. 

They continue forward, not letting go. Gabriel's dark smoke melts away as they advance. His glowing red eyes fade back to the dark, earthy brown that Jack so dearly remembers. The wounds and smoke fall away and scatter like sand in the wind.

Jack and Gabriel look at each other and they both smile.

‘I love you’ is in both of their eyes as they continue hand in hand. 

Together, Jack and Gabe allow themselves to be wrapped in the quiet, peaceful light.

* * * * *

  
  


"Journeys end in lovers meeting; I have spent an all but sleepless night, I have told lies and made a fool of myself, and the very air tastes like wine. I have been frightened half out of my foolish wits, but I have somehow earned this joy; I have been waiting for it for so long.”

― Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☀ ☾ ✨ Afterword ✨☾ ☀
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! It is an honor and privilege to share a tiny piece of my heart with you! And with some of our favorite characters nonetheless! 💕  
> Making this story took me a bit more than two years and I'm very thankful that you enjoyed it enough to read till the end! Drawing a picture for almost every chapter each week before publishing was a good exercise/practice in improvement for me as an artist. The creation of this fic started in 2018 and I had low-key almost died earlier that year, so that experience really got me to think deeply about mortality and what was truly important in life. (I'm okay and healthy now, don't worry!!!) This story's themes were heavily inspired by The Haunting of Hill House, which is a book and Netflix series, so that's why a lot of the chapter titles and quotes are lines from there.  
> With those in mind, I came to the conclusion that life can be chaotic, unfair, and unpredictable. But at the end of the day when all of it is said and done, the connections we've made with those we love are what really give life meaning. Love and warmth towards others are the greatest acts of rebellion in a cold, unpredictable world. And even when you're gone, the love and warmth you've put out in the world will always remain in some way, shape, or form.  
> I hope I was somehow able to convey that through this story.  
> As to where the light took them? I left it open for your interpretation, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on that.
> 
> Anyway, thank you again. I love you and wish you well! 💕

**Author's Note:**

> [Link to my art blog here!](https://blackglitter-art.tumblr.com/)


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